Redemption of a Butcher
by 1-1 Marines
Summary: Based off Charles Dickens A Christmas Carol and T.J.98's (check his work out) Cries of the Fallen. Gale was not as bad as Coin or Snow, but that does not change the fact countless lives were changed for the worse because of him. Follow Gale and a Peacekeeper spirit as he attempts to redeem himself. A/N: Will include interludes, typically from the Spirit's perspective.
1. A Meeting

**ME: Gale may not be either Coin or Snow, but that does not change that he, by both legal and bare-minimal moral standards, is a war criminal. The fact he designed snare bombs (which were intended to kill medics helping whomever got injured by the first explosion) and planned to kill everyone in the Nut without even offering a chance to surrender, up to and including wanting to keep them from escaping via train. Check out T.J.98 and ForFutureReference's stories on the matter, they do a wonderful job of explaining it-in fact, T.J. made the accurate analogy of destroying the Nut to nuking Tokyo without offering the Japanese a chance to surrender.**

This is a story of redemption, a baptism so to speak.

Gale Hawthorne always hated living in District Two, no matter what paychecks he received for his work.

The locals, particularly the goose-stepping Snow Loyalists, hated him. They called him the Butcher of the Nut, the Murderer of Two and so much more.

So what if he had killed Peacekeepers by bombing the Nut? Those same Peacekeepers carted away children to die in the Hunger Games, cheering on Careers as they slaughtered their poor and starving counterparts and having the audacity to complain when Katniss put the shoe on the other foot. They had bombed District 12, killing thousands of innocents.

Every man, woman and child who willingly marched as a Loyalist was merely a hypocrite and foolish fascist.

Gale grumbled as he changed and climbed into bed. Finally he could sleep.

But before he could, suddenly the room grew unnaturally cold. He stood straight up; the windows had opened.

"Impossible!" He yelled.

"Oh really, Hawthorne?" A District Two accent replied.

He screamed in fear before noticing her in his bedroom.

The woman was, of all things, a Peacekeeper. But both her uniform and armor were black as coal, as if she was covered in soot.

Then she did the unexpected, taking off her helmet and throwing it at him. He actually yelped in pain when it hit.

"Who are you?"

She was over six feet tall like him, unusual for females but not unexpected given her status as a soldier. She had black hair like Clove, the would-be-murderer of Katniss in the 74th Hunger Games, blue eyes like Cato (another one of the Careers he despised) but, most eerily enough, a face that was very similar to Katniss's.

The Peacekeeper's eyes were ice-cold as she stared into his gray ones. "I am not the first nor the last one murdered by you, Butcher. Merely the one chosen to deliver a message."

"What message? And murdered? What have I done to deserve-."

Then she slapped him across the face before backhanding him.

"YOU DESERVE NOTHING FROM ME OR ANYONE ELSE!" Calming down, the Peacekeeper continued speaking. "Gale Hawthorne, from snare bombs to the Nut, your actions have done nothing but degrade Panem, humanity, the rebellion and yourself! You, Butcher, deserve to die horribly and be dropped into a fiery pit of hell for you to burn in for all eternity for your sins!"

She paused, then glanced at him dripping with unquenchable malice. "But tonight you will get something neither Snow nor Coin got-you will be shown the full weight of your crimes! On top of that-you shall be made to understand your errors, be allowed to feel remorse and seek redemption!"

"Redeem yourself!" Gale spat furiously. "You hypocritical bitch, did you know how many Tributes your Careers ruthlessly murdered to be an idol of the Capitol? How many in District Twelve alone starved to death? How many coal miners, including my father, died before their time because you were worshipping Victors who got their opulent and excessive mansions through torture and slaughter of the weak and helpless?"

She didn't say a word, but grabbed Gale by the arm instead.

"Hey, wait-."

**ME: There is a good reason why Gale ranted at the Peacekeeper ghost/spirit. It may be a little over the top, but admittedly he has reason to be very pissed off at the Capitol and due to guilt by association their white-armored enforcers. He grew up in District 12, where his family was starving and his father died four years (roughly) before Gale's eighteenth birthday. The fact Thread and his whip scarred up his back don't help matters, or that the vast majority of District 12, Seam or Town, burned to death.**


	2. Family

**ME: Here we'll get an overview of the ghost's life (who I'm calling Enobaria as she was named after the Victor).**

Both Gale and the Peacekeeper were still in District Two, but it was clear this was before the Rebellion.

Everywhere he looked there were National banners, from the orphanages to merchant shops (although he suspected in part it was for publicity then nationalism, Gale's opinion of Two's storeowners did not rise as a result).

He then yelped as the Peacekeeper kicked him in the groin. "Quit envying the shopkeepers, they worked like anyone else. And this is just a nice little overview, Hawthorne. Now you'll get to see my family."

She grabbed his arm, then the shadows shifted as they travelled to one of the villages (officially a "sub-district").

"What's your name?" He asked as they walked to what had to be her home.

The Peacekeeper glanced at him from behind her visor, having retrieved her helmet after chucking it at him. "Enobaria Domitius. And yes, I was named after that great Victor."

Gale seethed briefly only to be cuffed upside the head. "If you get sanctimonious, Butcher, I swear I'll just leave you to burn. Now watch."

The two somehow walked through the wall of the house, which would've freaked Gale out if he hadn't met Enobaria earlier.

There were four people in the room they stopped in. One was clearly a younger version of Enobaria, still dressed in her school uniform as she had just gotten back home. The only male in the room was a man who was her father and had the build of a miner (in fact, he worked at the local quarry), but Gale stopped short of noting mentally that he looked far better off then his father ever had been. Her mother laid down on the bed smiling while nursing her newborn baby.

"What do you want to name your baby sister, Sweetheart?" Mr. Domitus asked while ruffling her hair gently, to her half-hearted annoyance.

"Clove," she replied instantly.

He was taken aback-not only was this woman a Peacekeeper, but she was the older sister of a Career Tribute.

"What?" Enobaria asked, clearly agitated. "Did you ever realize Clove was once a baby girl just like your sister was?"

Furious, Gale threw a punch. "Posy didn't grow up to be a greedy murderer killing starving children for a mansion!"

Much to his dismay, it didn't phase her and she just kneed him in the crotch. "You dumb son of a bitch, you ever think Katniss had reason to be proud of winning the Games alongside Peeta?"

He merely groaned a negative while nursing his "injury."

"Think. The free food, Parcel Day, all of it. That all happened to your Distirct because of her and him winning. Because of Careers likes my sister, none of the children in One, Two or Four who were poor enough to have to take tesserae had to fear it because a trained warrior was there to volunteer. I was pleased to compare notes with a victim of the Twelve bombing and learn Katniss was generous with her winnings when it came to spending at the Hob-just like quite a few of the Victors in my District as well as One and Four."

Gale's mouth actually hung open. It painted quite a different picture now that Enobaria explained it.

Enobaria and Clove were subject to the well-oiled education system of Two, even though they were from a modest (comfortable by Seam standards) village. Though their school was martially-oriented like every other one in the District, it's classes did not make them moronic thugs. In fact, they were both selected for the prestigious Warrior Academy of District Two when they came of age because of their stellar performance as students (though the fact their childhood recreation that consisted of playing with wooden practice swords among other things like fighting in battle reenactions with the other village children helped).

Then a rift developed between Clove and Enobaria. Both had grown up hearing tales of heroic veterans from District Two and sought to emulate them, but while Enobaria wished to become a Peacekeeper (and did) Clove wanted to volunteer for the Games. Unknown to anyone but herself, Enobaria actually disliked the Games and viewed them as unnecessary for law and order. Somewhat paradoxically, she did support the Careers on the basis that at least Districts 1, 2 and 4 benefitted from them.

"Are you crazy, Clove?" Enobaria asked. They were thirteen and nineteen now, with Enobaria now having been promoted to Lieutenant after graduating from OCS (which the older sibling was sent to because of graduating from basic training at the top of her class).

"I want to bring pride and honor to our family and District, Enobaria!" She snapped in response. "Being a Career is the best way to do that!"

"You already are Mom and Dad's pride and joy, sis! Don't risk your life needlessly!"

Clove shook her head. "Says the Peacekeeper!"

Enobaria actually laughed before poking her chest. "Five out of six Peacekeepers aren't killed on national television every year on average. You'd have friends as a Peacekeeper, and anyone you'd kill would be a murderer or rapist. Not some half-decent boy from Two."

Luckily enough, Enobaria was assigned to Two and thus could visit both Clove and her parents easily enough. Therefore, she got to see her little sister off before the 74th Hunger Games.

"Get home safely, Clove," the Lieutenant said with surprising softness.

The younger girl threw a salute. "Yes, ma'am!" She then smiled. "I don't have plans to settle down or anything, so maybe I'll end up joining the Peacekeepers anyway and end up outranking you!"

"In your dreams, Clover!"

Unfortunately, this would be the last time the sisters would banter, for Clove died at the hands of Thresh. The casket hadn't even arrived before both their parents hung themselves.

"You didn't think Careers like my sister had families, didn't you, Butcher?" Gale didn't speak but both knew what he couldn't hide. "Hopes and dreams?"

"She volunteered like Cato," he replied bitterly. "They brought their deaths on themselves."

"Like Katniss?" Enobaria struck a nerve, and it showed on his face. "What would have happened if my District won instead of yours? 'Sorry, citizens of District Twelve. You see, you uppity little rabble, it's just so unfortunate your Tributes died but both of ours came out and that's all that matters in our eyes. Better luck next year!'"

Gale just stared at the ground. "I knew two decent Peacekeepers in Twelve-Darius and Purnia," he said.

"Let's see what happened to one of them because of you, Butcher," Enobaria replied.

**ME: A/N: This is probably the longest chapter I've written.**

**The Warrior Academy is more or less a JROTC-like school, only a lot more fascist and goosesteppy. It's mainly there because of District Two's militaristic nature, and is (or was) responsible for official Career training, with those who don't volunteer typically becoming Peacekeepers as a bonus for the Capitol.**

**Ideas and comments are appreciated via reviews and PMs.**


	3. Price Of Bloodlust

**ME: Now for the snare-bombs.**

Gale and Enobaria were no longer in District Two; now they were in a far poorer area of Panem, District Eleven.

For nearly three fourths of a century since the Treaty of Treason, the locals had been forced to accept the tyranny of the Capitol. Heat, exhaustion and hunger were just a few woes of the citizenry; Peacekeepers, conditioned from birth to obey, were zealous in ensuring the residents followed every arbitrary law, up to and including sending two of their young every year to a televised death match that did not produce Victors most of the time for Eleven.

Now, a combination of ragtag local rebels and more uniform District Thirteen troops fought against District Eleven's Peacekeepers on the battlefield that the agricultural center

Gale would've spit on the ground if it wouldn't have hit. "I see Thirteen's finally gotten involved in getting the White Bastards that carted off Rue and Thresh among countless others to the Games removed and put in the dirt where they belong."

"Purnia was sent along with whatever garrison Peacekeepers were lucky enough to leave with Thread," Enobaria retorted. "According to the Capitol news reports-the only information legal for Panem by word of Snow, and thus what myself and my compatriots were unfortunate enough to believe-Thirteen firebombed Twelve with disguised hovercrafts to pin the blame on the Loyalists."

Gale still had yet to forgive Two-and frankly both the remaining Career Districts as well as the Capitol- for killing the vast majority of his neighbors, Seam or Merchant. "Since when have Peacekeepers like you cared about collateral damage?"

Enobaria removed her helmet, but her words would've carried the same effect regardless of whether or not her face was visible. "An entire District is a much different scenario then two children a year, Butcher Hawthorne, and last time I checked I only rode on aircraft. The bombers in question weren't even flown by regular aviators; crewing them was a group of black ops pilots whose unit in question forsook any basic morality to directly serve Snow. And did Thirteen help anyone in my District, yours or this one for seventy-five years?"

Gale opened his mouth, but she silenced him before he could speak. "Rhetorical question. Now watch."

Purnia was now running with three "New" Peacekeepers (the trio in question were fresh recruits that arrived when Thread took control of Eleven, and thus "new" regardless of actual experience) towards the frontline. While the other three (out of naïveté and genuine zeal) were convinced the Capitol was the only way to order, Purnia merely wanted to keep as many civilians from getting killed as possible regardless of flag. She knew from first-hand experience that what Thread wanted enforce didn't work in Twelve (and she had a feeling it didn't work in Eleven or any other District outside of the Career ones) and thus sympathized with the Rebellion, but it was killed or be killed now.

Suddenly Purnia tripped and fell face first into a ditch. This proved to be fortunate, for soon a rebel artillery shell fell nearby.

The three other Peacekeepers barely had time to shout out a warning before they were propelled backwards into the ditch. Two died virtually instantaneously, while the survivor crashed right next to Purnia.

Getting up and wiping the mud off her visor, Purnia saw that even a Capitol doctor couldn't have helped him. Amidst the vocalizing of his pain while bleeding out from fatal wounds, he nodded and she pulled the trigger.

_BANG!_

The tears had only begun to fall when an explosion and more screams were heard, more gut-wrenching fo Gale then the Peacekeeper's (who he was surprised to feel at least revulsion for).

"Wonder who that would be?" Enobaria glared at him murderously. "Is it Thread? One of those political officers from Thirteen? No, it's Thresh's relatives!"

Gale sputtered incoherently, but as they travelled to a damaged warehouse he could see she wasn't lying.

A stray snare-bomb had fallen into the warehouse, where both Thresh and Rue's families had taken shelter to avoid being shot by either a Peacekeeper or a Thirteen grunt. Unfortunately for both Thresh's grandmother and his sister, the bomb had landed near them and gone off before they could get clear like Rue's family were, being farther away from where the bomb landed and thus out of range.

Seeing his neighbors needed help, Rue's father opened the door just as Purnia charged in to kick it down if need be.

He instantly froze, horrified at the prospect of no longer being able to protect his wife and five remaining children. Purnia, however, ripped off her helmet one-handed and only grabbed him by his overalls.

"Who's hurt?!" She screamed, sounding more terrified at the prospect of civilians bleeding to death than authoritative.

"Two neighbors," he answered, grateful that not only his sons and daughters didn't see him gunned down but that Purnia was concerned with lives of ordinary citizens like him.

Gale suddenly felt sick to the stomach, knowing what would happen.

"Get your children out of here and a few medics," Purnia ordered the mother, praying that they all would live to the day when bullets weren't streaming through the air of Panem

"All of you," Thresh's grandmother said, "run!"

"Don't worry," Purnia replied as she walked up with Rue's father to try to treat them with her IFAK, "you and your granddaughter will make it-."

"NO!" She screamed to the best of her ability, which wasn't much given her age and injuries. "GET BACK, YOU YOUNG FOOLS! IT'S TOO DANGEROUS TO-."

Tragically, she was right. Just as Purnia opened her IFAK, the snare-Bombs second explosion went off. Unlike the first one, this was designed to be fatal to any and all victims.

Rue's mother ran back in seconds later, and she fainted in sheer shock from what was present. Gale didn't blame her, for he felt like vomiting the contents of his stomach over and over.

Blood and gore was everywhere, staining what was left of the warehouse. What were once two young women who might've been friends if they hadn't grown up on opposite ends of the totem pole, a devout family man and an elderly, kindhearted grandmother were now indistinguishable.

Enobaria put a hand on his shoulder, but it wasn't for comfort. "How does it feel, Gale Hawthorne, knowing the bomb that you designed to wound Peacekeepers then kill any medics who helped them wounded two civilians on top of windowing a mother of six who already lost her eldest and murdered your friend?"

Gale didn't speak, he just looked straight at the Peacekeeper officer, who in turn did nothing but direct her contempt towards her. "What happened to the one who wanted to kill the Oh-So-Evil-Monsters-In-White, Butcher? Do you feel like a hero yet? No?! Well why the hell didn't you think of that when you designed these damn things for Thirteen?!"

Gale wanted to die in a hole. His bloodlust slaughtered not only Purnia but three District Eleven civilians, one of which was around his age when the Rebellion began. And he realized in horror even though Enobaria stayed silent that countless other cases like this must have happened.

If his father would see him, Gale knew he would've asked one thing:_ "Who the hell are you and what have you done with my son, Monster?"_

**ME: A/N: Well this was the darkest chapter I've written so far, with more to come.**

**This was to address Gale's snare-bomb creation, but also Purnia's fate. Since she didn't live the rest of her days as an Avox like Darius (who got carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey in front of everyone's favorite baker, courtesy of some asshole Peacekeeper(s) who probably made Thread look like Jar Jar Binks), chances are she either burned to death like the vast majority of Twelve or died as a Peacekeeper. Her being killed trying to help civilians injured by a snare-bomb killed two birds with one stone.**


	4. Envy And A Command

**ME: Time for a little more detail regarding Enobaria's life as well as a look at the highest official in Twelve's family (even though Mayors, living under a fascist tyranny with power centralized in the Capitol, are effectively glorified bureaucrats) and the Merchants Gale doubtlessly envied.**

**A/N: Enobaria is a First Lieutenant now. I mentioned she got promoted to Lieutenant post-OCS, but I forgot to specify what rank-let's just say she was a Second Lieutenant.**

Gale was shown dozens of more gut-wrenching examples of the cruelty of snare-bombs he designed by Enobaria, the worst of which was a barely 14-year old medic from District Thirteen who defied orders (and would have been shot if it hadn't been for an older soldier hadn't tackled her unit's political officer) to go to the aid of a Peacekeeper whose lower left leg had been blown off by the first explosion and died just as she reached him from the second.

"STOP, PLEASE!" He screamed, any traces of arrogance and moral superiority gone from his voice. "NO MORE, NO MORE! I CAN'T SEE ANYONE ELSE GET KILLED BY SNARE-BOMBS, I CAN'T!"

Enobaria grabbed him by the collar, and though her helmet was back on Gale could tell her face was not one of sympathy for him. "Perhaps you should've thought of that before designing those bombs, Butcher Hawthorne."

"I DIDN'T WANT TO KILL PURNIA!" He sobbed while tears streaked down his face. "I DIDN'T WANT TO KILL RUE'S FATHER AND THRESH'S FAMILY! I DIDN'T WANT TO KILL THAT MEDIC!"

Enobaria ripped off her helmet and glared at him. "Do you still feel like a rebel hero, Gale Hawthorne? You designed those bombs with the intent of killing medics like that fourteen-year old girl from Thirteen. What would you have done if Snow had ordered the design and use of snare-bombs? Argue with the fact that with every single dead rebel medic killed by the second detonation, there would be less rebels who would be fixed up and live to fight another day? When I heard you had designed those bombs, myself and everyone in my unit wanted to place your head on a pike-after burning you alive first."

She then grabbed his arm and now they were back in District Two-more specifically, the Nut.

Enobaria was sitting alone in her quarters, gloomy even though it was both New Year's Eve and her birthday, on top of having been promoted to First Lieutenant yesterday.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," she said emotionlessly, still depressed that her parents and younger sister were dead.

In walked her company commander, Major Themistocles Flavius. Unlike Enobaria, who lacked a helmet, he was dressed in full body armor.

He returned her salute, then smiled. "Happy birthday, Lieutenant Domitius. I have a surprise for you."

"Paperwork, sir?" Enobaria replied.

He handed her a blindfold in response. "I'll show you it."

Gale and Enobaria watched as the former's younger self walked through the Nut and into a dark room. The Major smiled even though no one else could see it as he turned on the lights.

"Platoon, attention!" A female voice ordered.

Young Enobaria removed her blindfold and was surprised by what she saw.

It was a full platoon of Peacekeeper soldiers, all but one dressed in what appeared to be the new combat uniforms that became infamous during the Second Rebellion. Each and every one of the grunts were in full body armor with their faces hidden by opaque visors, save for the one who had spoken up when the lights turned on.

"I'm Second Lieutenant Laura Fisher, ma'am," the other woman said as they shook hands. "I've been assigned as your assistant platoon commander."

"We'll come back to this later," Enobaria said, before transporting both herself and Gale to where he grew up. District 12.

Gale recognized the Mayor's house. "I don't see why we're here," he muttered flatly. "Sure Mr. Undersee died in the firebombing, but unlike most of the Seam he lived a fairly cushy life."

"Oh really?"

Ever since her since her twin sister Maysilee died in the 50th Hunger Games, Mrs. Undersee had been struggling with depression even after she married Mr. Undersee and gave birth to their daughter. As well off as she had been growing up, Gale felt nothing but sorrow when Madge stopped trying to get her mother out of bed at age eight.

"I never knew it was that bad," Gale said. He had heard Mrs. Everdeen had ended up like that for a while, to Katniss's immense ire, but he didn't know Madge's mother couldn't even get out of bed and have a normal relationship with her daughter.

"Of course you didn't, Butcher," Enobaria replied casually, as if she had chosen between pizza and spaghetti at any of the Italian restaurants that had now opened in Panem. "Just like you never cared for Mellark-who, I am pleased to note, has Katniss's hand in marriage now, not you."

Even before she showed him the evidence, Gale knew she was telling the truth. He had wanted Katniss to come back alone, and he hated himself for the fact he wanted a young man his age to die just so he could have a girl he lusted over for himself.

"Good God!" He screamed. "How could I ever wish death on someone just so I could sleep with Katniss?"

"You did," Enobaria answered flatly. "Oh, and he doesn't treat her like some cheap hooker, if that's what you're thinking. Not that you ever cared for Katniss as a person, just as someone you could sleep with. Not that you'll ever get a chance to, since Mellark married her and whatnot. By the way, I've seen those two in action-and he's much better than you could hope to be." The last sentence was delivered helmetless and with a smirk-the first time he had ever seen her ghost genuinely happy.

They walked into the Mellark's bakery, where a younger Peeta was hit by his mother's rolling pin. "Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! Why not? No one decent will buy burned bread!"

Gale flinched in horror. If there was one thing he remembered positively about growing up in the Seam, it was that neither of his parents beat him for simply burning bread.

"And that's before his brother didn't volunteer for him when he got Reaped," Enobaria remarked. "Well, at least he was apologetic about it. His mother, on the other hand, flat out told him he would die. How's that for a goodbye, Butcher?"

**ME: A/N: I bet you noticed me assign two Lieutenants to the same platoon. My head canon-at least for this story-is that Peacekeepers have a somewhat unique command structure. 2nd LTs are assigned as assistant platoon commanders to learn how to be officers, while 1st LTs are there to mentor the 2nd LTs and ensure the platoon has at least moderately-experienced leadership, therefore averting the Ensign Newbie trope (Google it for further reference).**


	5. The Crimes Of Thirteen

**ME: A/N: Just so you guys know, there's mention of blackmailing for sex/rape. It won't be explicit and the story won't have to go to an M-rating, but if you're uncomfortable reading about this kind of subject, skip this chapter.**

**Oh, and credit for the Four Treasons/Virtues goes to my good friend and fellow author ForFutureReference, Check out his story "Somebody's Problem", it's a rather hilarious tale of a scientist from District Three and a Peacekeeper/Career-type from District Two going to college together in the Capitol as roommates and the resulting shenanigans. It's canon-compliant and takes place after the Rebellion.**

Gale and Enobaria were now back in District Eleven, where two families were having dinner together.

The first thing Gale noticed was the difference in skin-color. While the first family had dark brown skin common to the local population, the second had a much lighter and paler complexion (although they had each gotten a tan from years of living in Eleven). Then he noticed that the second family had worn-down accents indicating that they were from District Thirteen.

Gale flinched, remembering the fallout from when Katniss shot and killed President Alma Coin instead of Snow (although he either choked to death on his own blood or was crushed by the crowd). Soon, the crimes of District Thirteen's government came to light, and with it much of the higher-ups and their cronies found themselves facing a lifetime of hard labor at best, assuming the courts didn't give them a death sentence. Soon afterwards, many of the common people left Thirteen in a diaspora and settled in the twelve continental Districts or the Capitol, with only those who could not or would not leave their prison of a home staying.

"They weren't that bad," Gale said, still not terribly found of Thirteen. "They didn't bomb Twelve or cart off your sister to the Hunger Games, Enobaria."

"Yet they still committed crimes," the deceased Peacekeeper replied, although the distaste in her voice was not so much directed at Gale as it was at Thirteen's leadership. "How is a man who beats and rapes his wife different than a father who molests his daughter? Not to mention they watched as the Capitol punished the twelve other Districts via the Games and did nothing to stop it."

They soon came across four murals aligned in a cardinal direction like a compass in Thirteen, quite ornate compared to the rest of the underground District. It was the Four Virtues; _Loyalty_, a soldier and an official. _Productivity_ depicted a farmer and a factory worker clutching a sickle and a hammer respectively, something that originated from the now defunct Soviet Union of pre-Panem times. _Purity_ was a government-approved teacher instructing a class. The final one, _Sustainability_, was the most creepy in that the mural was a mother surrounded by her children.

"Did you ever hear of the Four Treasons, Butcher?" The Lieutenant asked.

"What?" He replied, genuinely confused by her question.

"State, Community, Mind and Humanity," she answered. "Each of those was a capital offense in Thirteen-fortunately they were smart enough to cover it up when you arrived."

She then grabbed his wrist, and now they were in an execution chamber. A man was restrained to a guillotine, and his eyes were filled with nothing but terror.

"Citizens of District Thirteen!" A slightly-pudgy Floor Garrison Commander announced in a booming voice, for the execution was now being broadcasted on every state-approved television and radio by order of President Coin. "This man, Marian Wałęsa, was once a noble foreman and leader amongst his fellow workers."

"No longer! Demanding Imperialist and hedonistic comforts that no one off his floor would receive, Wałęsa and the metalworkers in his crew participated in a week-long strike."

"Comrades!" The overweight Commander announced. "Because of this strike, for seven days no more work was done on hovercrafts for the glorious Panem Liberation Army! Had we been attacked by the greedy consumerist Capitolites-more accurately, their so-called Peacekeeper class traitor dogs-the officers and soldiers responsible for defending District Thirteen would be more vulnerable and thus die in greater numbers than would be necessary to defend the most advanced civilization in all the world! For this, Wałęsa is found guilty of the crime of Treason of the State and thus is sentenced to death!"

The foreman pleaded from behind a gag, but it proved useless for the soldier serving as executioner gleefully released the blade at his superior's order, severing Wałęsa's head from his body.

"Comrades, fellow citizens of glorious District Thirteen!" The Commander went on, holding the decapitated head in front of the camera. "Know this-all those who endanger the common good shall be ruthlessly executed! What Wałęsa got was too good for a class traitor! Long live the ways of the Party, all hail our glorious and benevolent leader President Alma Coin, savior of the peasants and industrial workers!"

"Dear God!" Gale screamed. "They executed a man for striking?!"

"That's not all," Enobaria replied. "His wife disappeared, having officially run away. Unofficially, she was used as a human test subject for nerve gas experimentation. His daughter was adopted by a henchman of Coin and molested until she killed him with a knife before committing suicide."

Gale was horrified. "This is what went on in Thirteen, Enobaria?"

The woman nodded. "And this is just one of the Four Treasons. Here's a Traitor of the Community," she said, grabbing his wrist.

A Floor Garrison Commander had finished his paperwork and was now enjoying dinner in his apartment. A squad leader under his command walked in.

"Comrade Floor Commander," said the soldier, "one of my men noticed a boy attempt to take his leftovers from the communal dining hall for his grandmother. What should we do?"

"SOP, Soldier," the Commander replied without looking up from his meal. "Food hoarding a flogging offense, you know that."

Gale couldn't tell what was more mortifying-the fact a child was being flogged for trying to take food to his grandmother or that he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Now they were in a compartment. A man and his wife (who, unbeknownst to anyone in Thirteen, was pregnant with twins) were reading Bibles and about to pray when a group of soldiers kicked down the door. Gale was horrified as the Garrison troops ended four human lives without hesitation.

Then they were looking upon two female soldiers in gray uniforms. One had black hair, olive skin (though unhealthily pale compared to those who lived in the Seam) and gray eyes, while the other would've looked at home in the Merchant section of Twelve with her blonde hair and blue eyes.

Nearby were seven men, their squadmates. One of them, the squad leader, smiled like Gale remembered Cray did at the underage girls forced to prostitute themselves for a day's food.

"You know what the penalty for being a NonCon is, ladies," he said leeringly.

"Yes, Comrade Squad Leader," they replied.

He smiled, groping each of the two women by one of their breasts. "But me and the boys can be merciful. We won't turn you in for being Traitors of Humanity-for a price."

The other six licked their lips in anticipation. "Now strip, and if you perform well none of us will rat you Borgeoise whores out."

"Good God!" Gale screamed, convinced he would vomit in horror if he could.

"Those two were the lucky ones," Enobaria said. "All seven of their squadmates were killed in action, while they survived the whole Rebellion. Now they're married and don't live in their hellhole of a homeland anymore. But that's not all."

Now the Peacekeeper and the Rebel were in the meeting room for the Politburo of the Communist Party of District Thirteen. Onscreen was an intelligence operative reporting from nearby District Twelve.

"Comrade President," he began, "judging by the intelligence I have received, it appears that Snow may be preparing to destroy District Twelve."

"Elaborate, Operative," Coin replied.

"Reports have emerged of his personal covert operations group, the Praetorian Enforcers, have been readied to destroy Twelve if need be. Additionally, it appears Peacekeeper troops are being transferred to the rest of continental Panem judging by the increased amount of train and hovercraft use."

Boggs, Minister of Defense, spoke up. "Comrade President, if this is true than we must prepare our hovercrafts to defend District Twelve. The death of eight-thousand people-."

"-will have no negative effects on the war effort strategically," Coin cut him off.

At this, Boggs paled. "Pardon me, Comrade President?"

"Prior to the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games, look at what was allowed to happen under Cray. Everdeen didn't get her skills overnight, and prior to her and Mellark winning the local Peacekeeper garrison had grown quite lax in light of the fact coal is no longer that valuable and thus they no longer had any reason to keep up appearances." She smiled. "Snow may think he's snuffing out a spark, but in reality he's pouring more fuel onto a fire. With the deaths of thousands of unarmed people at once, we can convince the masses of the remaining-and more important-continental Districts to rebel against Capitol rule."

"They watched as my neighbors died and did literally nothing?" Gale said, horrified beyond belief at Coin's callousness.

"The fact you survived and invented snare-bombs was a bonus in her mind, Butcher," Enobaria remarked.

**ME: A/N: Communism does not work. For further reference, check out North Korea if you're a hipster/hippie moron who can't accept facts.**

**The factory foreman's name is a reference to Lech Wałęsa, founder of the Polish anti-communist trade Union Solidarity, and his successor, Marian **Krzaklewski.****


	6. Interlude: Calm Before The Storm

**ME: This chapter will be a break from going over Gale's sins. Both sides in Panem are gearing up for war now, and it will show. A/N: This will take place from Enobaria's perspective in the past. **

First Lieutenant Enobaria Domitius and her platoon now had a mission; instruct the Warrior Academy of District Two Cadets via a very special lesson.

Dressed in their new combat uniforms-which, according to Major Flavius, were exclusive to the Capitol Garrison and Praetorian Guard, both of which (but the Guard in particular given it's purpose of protecting the President) had priority over the District Garrisons-the troops marched to their APCs.

Enobaria now had her second-in-command Laura Fisher for a roommate, and since being assigned to each other the two had quickly become friends.

Laura was from District Four (which could be discerned via her worn-down accent and surname); more specifically, she was the Mayor's daughter. Her older brother was a Victor who was now married to his childhood sweetheart. She was, naturally, a talented swimmer. Growing up in a Career District she had trained to be a competent swordswoman and was an ace with crossbows, the latter of which had prepared her for firearms usage (only District Two citizens were allowed to have firearms, and even then they only had bolt-action hunting rifles). She had always wanted to be a Peacekeeper, and had joined the day she finished school.

Gripping her helmet, Enobaria walked into the auditorium with Laura on her tail.

"Morning, Cadets," she announced. "I am First Lieutenant Enobaria Domitius. This is my Assistant Platoon Commander Second Lieutenant Laura Fisher. We are Peacekeepers, the defenders of security, order and prosperity in Panem. Today we will be giving you a demonstration on what is used to, no pun intended, keep the peace."

She gestured to Laura, who picked up a pistol. "This handgun is the standard sidearm of the Peacekeepers. Firing a five-point-seven-by-twenty-eight cartridge, it is recommended for officers and NCOs as well as those in noncombat positions such as pilots and engineers, among others. It only weighs one-point-six pounds loaded-it may as well be a paperweight."

Enobaria then grabbed a different firearm. "This is the personal defense weapon/submachine gun, which uses the same cartridge the pistol does. It has three settings; safe, semi-auto and full-auto. It has a fifty-round magazine loaded horizontally-which, admittedly, is somewhat difficult to learn to do. It is more than adequate for riot control, but up against serious rebels official policy is to use a third solution."

Laura held up an assault rifle and spoke. "What you're looking at, boys and girls, is a five-point-fifty-six-by-forty-five millimeter weapon. This is an assault rifle, a weapon of peacemaking rather than peacekeeping considering the fact that this rifle is designed with the intent of taking down armored rebels. This weapon is a descendant of the design that drove District Thirteen's troops back to their wretched hive before it was annihilated."

"Final ranged weapon we're discussing," said Enobaria, grabbing a SAW/LMG. "This is a squad automatic weapon or light machine gun, a five-point-fifty-six like the assault rifle. What this ten-pound firearm gives the Peacekeepers is every squad a source of automatic firepower. It won't knock down trees but it'll definitely cut down rebels." She then laughed at the idea of Mockingjay rebels being cut down as though they were plants, while some laughed with her, either willingly or out of pressure.

"Now for close quarters." She withdrew her sword from the scabbard on her left. "This is the Gladius, the primary weapon of the legionaries, the foot soldiers of a pre-Panem civilization known as the Romans. These weight at most two-point-two pounds and are less than three feet in length. Historians continue to debate why these weapons are so light, but given their practicality and ease of production I say it's because it's a weapon of war that worked and still works."

Laura took over by grabbing a baton. "This bludgeon here is a rapid containment baton. You can either expand it for combat or collapse it for carry. Very good at keeping uppity men in their place, ladies."

Some of the female Cadets laughed, while their male colleagues covered their groins in horror.

Enobaria indicated a knife. "This is pretty self-explanatory." Grabbing a stun baton, she activated it and test fired it into the air. "Three to five seconds of this will daze and temporarily paralyze your target."

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your attention. If any of you need a job post-graduation, the rebels seem to be intent on forcing Panem to expand her armed forces. That is all."

**ME: This is just a temporary break from Gale getting browbeaten. More of that will come soon enough. A/N: The pistol is the FN 5.7 (or it's equivalent), the PDW is the FN P90, the rifle is the FN F2000 and the LMG/SAW is the Stoner LMG.**


	7. A Pathetic Excuse Of A Friend

**ME: Back to Gale's sins.**

Gale and Enobaria were no longer in District Thirteen, but rather the former's hometown of Twelve. More specifically, the woods.

"Katniss," Young Gale said to the huntress. "Kiss me now."

As the two made out (with Katniss thinking of Peeta rather than her "cousin" and too mentally confused to give consent), Gale's tastebuds were overwhelmed by what he thought was bile and with good reason.

"Deat God!" He yelled. "Who the hell was I back then, Enobaria?"

The Lieutenant growled. "It's Domitius to you, Butcher, and the same douchebag who buried me and countless others. Honestly, this bullshit isn't surprising."

As the two stopped kissing and began to talk, Gale felt nothing but relief at the fact he had never committed date rape.

"Oh, jealously is so romantic, Hawthorne!" Enobaria commented sarcastically when Young Gale said he minded Darius flirting with Katniss.

"I may have been a little possessive of my friend," Gale said, "but I never hurt her."

"Oh really?"

The Peacekeeper grabbed his forearm, and now they were standing on the roof of the Presidential Mansion. They could see the front yard, packed with Capitolite children by order of the now-deceased Coriolanus Snow to provide a human shield. Some were in their early-to-late teens, while others were newborns who knew nothing of politics. All were vulnerable to the cold and the final battle of the Second Rebellion.

Save for some men and women to keep them calm (as well as the Praetorian Guards on sniper duty and manning machine guns), the majority of the remaining Peacekeepers moved into position to defend the Mansion from the approaching Rebel troops. Some were of the Capitol Garrison, while others were a hodgepodge of soldiers who had retreated from the Districts. Some of the remaining troops had lost fingers, eyes or ears in battle, while others lacked helmets. Although most were born in a Career District, mainly Two, a few were from the Capitol. What united them was their shared goal of protecting the children from a vengeful Rebellion.

A mixture of ragtag continental rebels and more trim, gray-uniformed troops from District Thirteen ran into battle. The Peacekeepers, having the advantage of cover and established defenses, moved down the first wave. A few of the more daunted soldiers attempted to retreat but were shot by political officers hailing from Thirteen. However, this only sealed their own fate; a mixture of "friendly fire" from continental rebels and less obedient District Thirteen soldiers as well as sniper fire from the Praetorians quickly eliminated the commissars.

Suddenly, hovercrafts materialized and released their insidious payloads above the freezing children. Slowed by silver parachutes, Gale flinched when he remembered what had happened that day. The children, particularly the older ones who had watched the Games, recognized them and believed them to be care packages.

Then the bombs detonated, the first explosions killing or maiming many of the young Capitolites outright.

As their wails and screams penetrated air, every soldier in the vicinity ceased firing his or her weapon. Many on both sides dropped their weapons or vomited in sheer horror.

Fortunately (not that it mattered much, Gale realized to his regret and horror), some of the Peacekeepers recovered and removed the barricades. Shortly after medics in white, gray and rags ran in to save the children, along with nearby civilians with medical training. The Peacekeepers merely kept out of the way, as did the rebels; both groups knew ideology and politics were no longer important.

Enobaria grabbed his head and made Gale focus on one rebel medic in particular; Primrose Everdeen, her shirt still untucked.

Then the second explosions occurred, largely slaughtering the remaining children and the medics treating them. Prim, a girl who wasn't even fourteen (the minimal age for Thirteen's military), died like the child she was treating.

"You hurt Katniss, Hawthorne," Enobaria snapped. "She may have walked away only physically burned, but her sister died because of you. If it hadn't been for your Goddamned bombs, Coin wouldn't have been able to kill Primrose Everdeen and all those children for political points. Your desire for revenge cost your supposed best friend her sister-imagine how she feels waking up everyday, knowing if she'll ever have children that they'll never know their Aunt Prim. You. Are. A. Monster!"

**ME: As always, reviews and PMs are appreciated, readers.**


	8. Interlude: The Reaping Of Victors

**ME: Reaping time!**

Numerous Peacekeepers who made up District Two's Garrison were gathered in an enlisted mess hall, Lieutenants Domitius and Fisher being two of them.

Why?

Mandatory television programming in the form of President Coriolanus Snow reading the card for the Third Quarter Quell.

The seventy-six year old man spoke regarding the Dark Days, the justification of the Games as a result to punish the Districts, and the Quarter Quells-a special game occurring every twenty-five year anniversary to make fresh the memory of those killed by the Rebellion.

"On the twenty-fifth anniversary," Snow went on, "as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every District was made to hold an election and vote on the Tributes who would represent it." Historians throughout Panem would later reflect on the First Quarter Quell after the Second Rebellion and regard it as the ultimate perversion of the ideals of both of the great North American democracies, the United States of America and Canada.

"On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every District was required to send twice as many Tributes."

Enobaria growled while Laura ran a hand through her blonde hair. It was the Games from which Haymitch Abernathy emerged not as a corpse but as a Victor.

"And now we honor our Third Quarter Quell," the white-haired President said, opening the envelope marked 75. "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female Tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of Victors."

Enobaria smiled before glancing into her friend's ocean blue eyes. "Just who is the one female Victor in District Twelve, Laura?"

"Katniss Everdeen," she replied. "Oh, there's no way she and her fiancé will return back to Twelve now. One, Two and Four all have superior candidates-I doubt they've been sitting around like a Capitolite, Enobaria."

Soon it was the day of the Reaping, and the two young women headed to the Officers' Mess for breakfast. Head Peacekeeper Remus Thread, the twin brother of Romulus Thread, stopped them.

"Lieutenant Domitius, is it?" He asked.

"Yes, sir," Enobaria replied instantly, pleased that she had the attention of a superior officer.

"Your unit's on guard duty for the Justice Building today," Remus went on. "I want you providing security for the reaping, you're the best platoon commander in all of Two."

"Sir, yes, sir!" Said Enobaria. "As you ordered, sir! And thank you the compliment, sir, I appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Lieutenant," the older man replied. "And my condolences regarding your family. Your little sister Clove has to be one of the bravest Tributes I've known-were it not for her, my niece would've been in the Games. Thankfully she and Cato shall be avenged in the Quell."

The Reaping produced Enobaria's namesake and Brutus. Their colleagues wished them good luck, while the two Victors-turned-Quell-Tributes put on a good show for the cameras. The District Escort, a man who was respected for his lack of conspicuous hedonism, nodded and cheered with approval.

Enobaria had Laura take over and met the female Victor.

"I want to thank you for mentoring Clove, ma'am," she said. "It's an honor to meet the brave and great woman I was named after."

"The honor's mine, Lieutenant," the older Enobaria replied. "I volunteered when I was eighteen-she did it at _fifteen_! Your little sister was courage personified and on legs!"

The First Lieutenant smiled as she returned to base with her subordinates. True, it was sad to see Victors fight each other to the death instead of enjoying life and making use of their hard-earned winnings, but it was a small price to pay to see Clove's death avenged. That night Enobaria slept with a smile on her face.


	9. Fallout On A Family

**ME: Back to Gale's sins, or the fallout of said sins. A/N: This will be shorter than normal.**

**Time: Flashback**

Gale and Enobaria were now back outside Gale's house in District Two, but it was a year before the former coal miner and hunter learned of her existence.

When his family still lived with him, he flinched.

Gale's reputation had not endeared him to the population; in fact, they hated him and by extension his family. His mother was viewed as an outcast at the hospital where she worked, while his younger siblings were consistently bullied at school by their peers (their teachers either ignoring or joining their tormentors)

A car drove by fast, and just after a window rolled down one of the occupants threw a grenade.

The frag broke one of the windows and landed on the floor at Posy's feet. The nine-year old screamed in fright, and past Gale ran in.

In the present Gale let out a sigh of relief, knowing it was a dud.

Enobaria must've been a mind reader, for then she said, "That's more than can be said for those who could've lived if your snare bombs were duds."

That was the last straw for Hazelle Hawthorne, who took his sister and brothers away and moved back to District Twelve. Gale stayed, not wanting to leave and face Katniss in spite of the death threats he got every day.

"And it doesn't stop there," said Enobaria. "Even though you're estranged, Hawthorne, not a day goes by whenever they don't get death threats or insults in the mail. And that's on a good day-sometimes they're delivered in person."


	10. Interlude: Declaration Of War

**ME: Time for an execution and an unwelcome announcement. A/N: Interlude.**

**TIME: Flashback**

Enobaria held her clipboard, glancing at the three subordinates under her command who were manning flamethrowers.

The trial of a wicked pervert had been concluded, and now an execution would occur.

Five Peacekeeper MPs walked out with a prisoner in tow. One held him by the scruff of his neck, while the other four formed a protective quadrilateral. The prisoner's hands were only bound with rope, but the armed guards more then compensated. They forced him to his knees in front of the team before withdrawing behind the flamethrowers.

"Former Head Peacekeeper Peter Cray," she began, "you have been found guilty by a general court-martial's panel in accordance with the Uniform Code of Military Justice of treason, corruption, gross misconduct, mismanagement of a District as Head Peacekeeper, solicitation of prostitutes and statuary rape. For your crimes, you are hereby dishonorably discharged effective immediately and sentenced to death by fire. I would like to note that had you not solicited underage girls for sex instead you would have been executed via firing squad, hanging or decapitation-therefore, you have brought this on yourself. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Cray simply spit on the ground.

"Very well, then," the First Lieutenant replied. With that she ordered, "Fire!"

The flames engulfed Cray, making him fall to the ground screaming in pain. Enobaria felt no pity for the pathetic example of a Head Peacekeeper.

Later on she practiced sword-fighting with Laura. Although the District 4 native was a competent opponent, Enobaria had grown up in the more militant Career District and beat her most of the time.

She handed her second-in-command a canteen just as the PA system boomed.

"Safeguard, Safeguard, Safeguard," Head Peacekeeper Remus Thread announced. "Safeguard rule now in force. Say again, Safeguard rule now in force."

Both junior officers frowned. Safeguard meant the Peacekeeper forces were shifting from exercises to dealing with real threats. Any broadcast would be preceded by the word Safeguard three times to confirm it wasn't a drill.

"Attention all Peacekeepers," came a second voice, "this is Head Peacekeeper of the Armies Gaius Augustus. It appears that Panem is now on the verge of rebellion. In spite of the Quarter Quell and the end of the Uprising in District Eight, the rabble are increasing their defiance of the Government. By direct order of President Coriolanus Snow himself, we are to prepare for war. Remember that if the rebels are not put down with extreme prejudice, innocent civilians will be slaughtered by the savage hordes as they were during the Dark Days."

**A/N: I gave Cray his first name after the current CEO of Cray Inc., a supercomputer company. The UCMJ/general court-martial is a reference to American military justice, while the Safeguard rule stuff is a Royal Navy thing. And Gaius Augustus is named after the first Emperor of Rome.**


	11. Interlude: Battle Of The Outskirts

**ME: War is now coming to Two. A/N: Interlude.**

**TIME: Flashback**

"Lieutenant Domitius," Major Flavius addressed her via earpiece.

"Yes, sir?" She replied.

"Your platoon's on QRF duty, Command's getting worried about recent Rebel gains and wants an ace in hole."

"Acknowledged, Major," Enobaria answered. "My troops will be ready soon."

"Understood, Lieutenant. Flavius out."

The platoon soon marched to a hangar bay, where a group of hovercraft pilots joined them.

Their uniforms were white, as were standard since the Dark Days (albeit slightly grayer then the old version). The helmet hid their faces behind an opaque visor, which was done for psychological reasons-it would present a unified fighting front and intimidate rioters, thus reducing collateral damage. In addition, the helmet had an integrated gas mask, providing CBRN protection. The gloves were gray, while the boots were now white instead of black and they had kneepads for added protection. The vest also was ribbed and covered more.

Enobaria took off her helmet but kept her earpiece in as she laid down. Some of her subordinates decided to talk, but she had learned to become a light sleeper in boot camp and soon dozed off.

Approximately two minutes passed before alarms began to blare, waking her and the others up.

"Safeguard, Safeguard, Safeguard!" Remus Thread's voice boomed. "Attention all personnel, report to combat stations immediately! Repeat, all personnel to combat stations!"

Her earpiece buzzed. "Major Flavius to Lieutenant Domitius, how copy? Over."

She replied instantly, "Copy, sir, go ahead."

"I want your platoon on standby, we could need to scramble a QRF immediately! Flavius out."

With that Enobaria removed her earpiece and put her helmet on, charging into one of the hovercrafts when the Head Peacekeeper of District Two himself addressed her.

"Lieutenant Domitius, this is Head Peacekeeper Thread. Radio check, over," said the older man.

"Sir, I'm reading you five-by-five," she replied. "Go ahead, over."

"My brother's leading the remnants of District Eleven's Garrison plus his own troops in a fighting retreat. You are to take your platoon and reinforce them, others will soon follow. Am I clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" She barked as though Enobaria was a fresh recruit.

"Good luck, Lieutenant. Out."

The hovercrafts took off after. The squad soon proceeded to engage in banter; the Sergeant, an experienced veteran who had put down the First Uprising of District Eight, had low expectations of the rebels and planned to "send the cave-dwellers back to their basement where they belong." A cocky young Corporal planned to march through each of the rebellious Districts and "instruct every willing eighteen-year old girl on what it's like to sleep with a winner." His more irritated counterpart vocally complained about her not getting enough sleep.

Enobaria glanced at the self-declared ladies man. "Paying them doesn't count."

They all chuckled at the Corporal's expense until they landed.

A Peacekeeper Captain ran up to them. "Good to see you've made it!" He shouted. "We need immediate reinforcements!"

Enobaria casually cocked her rifle while keeping the safety on. "Lead the way, sir."

The platoon marched into position, where they encountered a unit led by Romulus Thread himself. The Head Peacekeeper was haggard and thin; the war had taken it's toll on him.

"Peacekeepers!" He announced. "We are to defend this position until further notice, or else the rebel hordes shall be allowed to pollute the blessed homeland! Long live the Boys and Girls in W-."

Thread did not finish, for then there was the distinctive crack of a sniper rifle and Thread was subject to an impromptu brain surgery.

"Sniper fire!" Enobaria announced somewhat redundantly, throwing herself to the ground and narrowly avoiding a second shot. A third shot narrowly missed Laura, then a fourth shot-this one from a Peacekeeper sharpshooter-ended the rebel's life.

"Lieutenant Domitius to Command, come in!" She said. "Command, respond!"

"This is Head Peacekeeper Thread," came the reply. "What is it, Lieutenant? Over."

Enobaria swallowed audibly. "Sir, your brother is down. I repeat, Head Peacekeeper Romulus Thread is KIA, sniper got him. Do you copy, over?"

There was a pregnant pause. "Copy, Domitius. Be advised: Help is imminent, acknowledge."

"Understood, sir," she replied, "but we'll need immediate air support at this rate. I say again, requesting bombing run!"

"Denied, Lieutenant," Remus replied. "Too many rebel fighter hovercraft in the skies, you'll have to wait. Thread out."

"Damn it!" Enobaria cursed.

"Incoming rebels!" A female Peacekeeper with a District One accent shouted.

Sure enough, a horde of them soon charged at the Peacekeepers. They were continental rebels, and thus dressed in a ragtag fashion unlike District Thirteen's gray-uniformed army, and wore no body armor whatsoever. Easy targets.

"For the Rebellion! For the Mockin-!"

Enobaria cut off one of them with a burst of rifle fire to the neck. "Death to the traitors! Death to the Mockingjay!"

The Lieutenant was distinctly unimpressed. Eventually District Thirteen infantry came in, and she was shocked to see what looked like an officer gunning down three retreating continentals.

"Die, you coward traitors!"

Incoherently screaming in rage, Enobaria threw a frag grenade and smiled at the explosion. "Come and get some!"

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE THINGS?!" Laura screamed.

Enobaria glanced over in her direction, and noticed some improvised fighting vehicles. The first of those was a pickup truck with a machine gun mounted on the back.

The gunner mowed down four Peacekeepers, but Enobaria aimed and fired two shots at him. The first one narrowly missed, while the second one slammed into his forehead. A grenade then rolled under the truck and detonated.

"Crazy fuckers with knives!" A Peacekeeper shouted.

Sure enough, straight ahead two rebels charged ahead with only knives. Gut-wrenchingly the one on the left looked ten at most.

Enobaria gunned down the child soldier (cursing the Rebellion for condoning the practice), but her rifle's magazine ran dry. Rather then reload, she tried her CQC skills.

Drawing her Gladius, she narrowly avoided the second rebel's knife and with one swing loped his hand off. As the knifeman screamed in pain, she then decapitated him mercifully with another swing. A pair of tanks (undoubtedly from Thirteen) rolled in along with rebel reinforcements on foot.

Was this how she would die? Gunned down by soldiers pledging allegiance to the traitorous Mockingjay?

Suddenly a pair of missiles flew in, taking out the tanks. Two attack hovercraft then strafed the rebels, forcing a retreat.

Enobaria walked over to Romulus Thread's corpse and grabbed his dog tags as transport hovercrafts landed nearby. Major Flavius disembarked, his helmet off and smiling.

"Good work, Lieutenant!" He remarked. "The enemy has bitten off more than they can chew, and you've shown them! Good work!"

Enobaria nodded as she noticed Laura take two surrendering female rebels in gray uniforms prisoner. One could've been Katniss Everdeen herself if not for her paler complexion and black crew cut, while the other could've easily passed herself off as Peeta Mellark's cousin or even sister.

**ME: War has come to District Two, readers. How did I do?**


	12. Interlude: This We'll Defend

**ME: November; the months of elections and the Gunpowder Treason. A/N: Interlude.  
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**TIME: Flashback**

_November 5th, Year 75 ADD (After Dark Days)_

_It's been a couple of months since the Second Rebellion began. District 12 was destroyed by hovercraft from 13 disguised as Peacekeeper ones. Virtually every single District in Panem has been overrun with the exception of my home. Even now we fight to keep it that way._

_My battalion was decimated in battle along with the remnants of the garrisons of Districts 11 and 12. We were the spearhead of the counterattack against the rebel hordes, but we were mauled by a bombing raid and a mechanized assault._

_When it comes to command, we were fucked more or less. The Lieutenant Colonel in charge of our battalion was killed by an air strike (not the one that decimated us as a whole) along with most of his staff. The XO, an older Major, took a shot to the heart courtesy of a rebel sniper. The Sergeant Major was critically wounded by an artillery shell and had to be MEDEVACED to the hospital; my company's First Sergeant is now the highest ranking NCO in what remains of our battalion._

_Currently Major Themistocles Flavius is in command; all of his peers are KIA, MIA or WIA (the last of whom were all too badly injured/wounded to serve). None of the Captains survived or aren't in a hospital, so I'm his XO. My second-in-command is the only other officer in the battalion that's still in action._

_Strength-wise, we're a pitiful excuse of a Peacekeeping battalion. I think there's around 200 men and women left; we used to have 1,200 Boys and Girls in White._

_But thankfully the powers that be have given us a break; Head Peacekeeper Remus Thread himself ordered that we pull back to the central town. For what, I do not know and frankly don't care. All that matters is that my troops are no longer going through a fucking meat grinder._

Enobaria put away her journal and glanced around the APC. Unlike before, there was no banter or ribbing; the Peacekeepers were all dead silent. You could hear a pin drop.

Some, like the Sergeant and two Corporals as well as a female Private with a District One accent, she recognized. Others were survivors from the rest of the battalion.

"Join the Peacekeepers, they said," commented the Private. "It'll be fun, they said. You'll be paid handsomely for your service, they said. You'll see all Panem has to offer, they said."

Enobaria snarled from behind her visor. "Shut your mouth, Private, or you're gonna be scrubbing toilets for a year back at One. Assuming I don't have you dishonorably discharged and sent back a disgrace; enjoy trying to get a decent job with that resume."

"How did those cave-dwelling bastards from Thirteen survive a fucking nuke?!" Said the male Corporal. "Did we not irradiate the shithole or are they just damn cockroaches?"

"They're a collection of cowards, too," the Sergeant added. "Fuck, I saw just how much they valued their continental brethren when they used them for cannon-fodder-convenient, don't ya think, that the Grays always charged in after sending a few waves at us? And what were they doing for seventy-five years?"

"Nothing but waiting for that slut from Twelve to stir up the rabble," replied the female Corporal. "Coin thinks she can claim Panem as her personal piggy bank? Fine, over our dead bodies."

"Ninja Three-Three, this is Shogun," the APC's radio barked. "Come in, over."

The APC commander answered. "Copy, Shogun, go ahead."

"Ninja Three-Three, what's your ETA? Over."

The APC commander paused before answering. "Five-to-seven, maybe ten Mikes top, sir."

"Acknowledged, Three-Three. Shogun out."

Finally they disembarked. Standing in the town square (and near the train station) was Remus Thread.

"Peacekeepers of Panem!" He bellowed. "You have done a fine job exterminating the unruly rebels that plague our great nation!"

He paused, glancing at Major Flavius. "But this war is more than fighting! Right now we are evacuating Loyalists from Districts One and Four as well as this very District itself to our fortress once inhabited by the chivalrous Knights of NORAD, a pre-Panem order that defended the North American civilizations of the United States and Canada!"

"Peacekeepers, you are the only troops we could spare! Your mission is to defend this train station until evacuations are complete, for if you fail the rebels shall rape and pillage until there is nothing left!"

Major Flavius nodded. "Understood, sir!" He turned to the remnants of the battalion. "Listen up, soldiers! We'll divide into four platoons; Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta. Alpha and Bravo will be lead by myself and Lieutenant Domitius, respectively, and will defend the approach to the square. First Sergeant Carney and Lieutenant Fisher will be in command of Charlie and Delta and are to defend the left and right flanks. Echo-that is, what's left of our weapons company-will provide fire support alongside the battery of artillery attached to us. Am I clear?"

"SIR, YES, SIR!" They all barked.

"Bullshit, I can't hear you! Sound off like you got a pair!"

"SIR, YES, SIR!"

"That's more like it, death to the Rebellion and the Mockingjay!"

**ME: "Mikes" mean minutes. And First Sergeant Carney's named after a MOH recipient from the 54th Massachusetts. Additionally, the title of this chapter is a reference to the motto of the US Army.**


	13. Interlude: Ready-Aim-

**ME: Time for preparations and controversial topics. A/N: Interlude.**

Barricades had been established to allow the remainder of 1st Battalion, 1st Regiment of District Two's Peacekeeping Garrison to fight from cover. Both heavy and medium machine guns augmented their firepower, as did the mortars and anti-tank missile launchers along with their unguided rocket launcher counterparts. Anti-aircraft weapons were stationed to prevent rebel bombers from attacking the evacuation.

Finally vehicles drove in. There was a variety of people-some were uniformed schoolchildren herded by their teachers, some were nuclear families, some crippled or old, others childless couples or single adults. They were all either neutral or Loyalist civilians hoping to avoid the war.

"Citizens," Enobaira announced via bullhorn, "please remain calm. Pregnant women, the disabled and/or elderly and children first, the rest of you will be allowed to go after them. Please provide whatever assistance you can if you are able-bodied, we all need to do our part."

A husband dressed in clothes common to a stonecutter kissed his pregnant wife goodbye while his teenaged son and daughter helped their grandfather. A freckled 19-year old boy tried to comfort his crying girlfriend (whose brother had been KIA in Twelve). A crippled elderly man aided by his nephew cried a tearful goodbye, while orphans bitterly reflected on the fact their ranks would be swelled (and already had been).

The Lieutenant reflected on the fact she was a guardian for all these people, alongside her fellow platoon leaders. Laura was her friend, their bond strengthened by a baptism of fire that led the two to become surrogate sisters. Major Flavius, while not nearly as close, was a good man and excellent commander, had believed in her ever since she was assigned to his company post-OCS graduation. And finally there was First Sergeant Carney.

The first thing she learned about him was that his very appearance was deceitful. Although Carney's dark skin (and, to a lesser extent given the Career Districts, his build) would have seemingly indicated him being from District Eleven, his accent (worn-down with a hint of Two) designated him as a Capitol native; however, he was an orphan and joined the day he graduated from school not out of debt or thrill-seeking but out of honor and selflessness.

The evacuees were moved into the train cars, while a few APCs deposited their living cargoes. Similarly, a group of armed men and women (having left the train cars before the refugees boarded them) walked over.

The first thing Enobaria noticed was that they were not uniform in appearances; some wore Peacekeeper uniforms and were undoubtedly Boys and Girls in White (judging by their fresh gear and appearance as well as walk, they were recruits fresh out of training and on their way to the front, although their leadership most likely were DIs and training officers), while the others wore a hodgepodge of clothing and would've been identified as rebels if not for their white armbands bearing the seals of Districts One, Two and Four.

One of the training officers addressed her battalion. "Battalion, these recruits are on their way to the frontline to reinforce whatever units need them. Those wearing armbands are Loyalist Militia troops from the Career Districts, they are here to strengthen your unit and help protect the evacuees."

The stonecutter's daughter glanced at the passengers who had disembarked from the APCs and found herself mortified.

They all wore Cadet uniforms along with a mixture of old Peacekeeping gear (said gear having been withdrawn from service due to it's ineffectiveness at intimidating the District Eleven farmhands, leading to a violent riot during the 74th Hunger Games). Some with their heights and builds were definitely in the seventeen-to-eighteen range, while others barely looked old enough to volunteer.

"Cadets!" Major Flavius said. "You are all honorable students of this fine District's Warrior Academy, but the majority of you are not old enough for the horrors myself and my Peacekeepers shall face once again courtesy of the rebel horde. Therefore, you are all ordered to defend the train station. Failure to comply will end with you disgraced."

"Why hang back?" Said a cocky eighteen-year old who undoubtedly would've attempted to volunteer if not for the Quarter Quell taking Victors instead. "So your so-called _battalion_-" Enobaria despised his smugness "-can be defeated by some half-wit peasants lead by the Whore of Twelve?"

She growled and beat Flavius to the punch, seizing him by the collar. "Listen, you pathetic, _worthless_, immature brat! This battalion has seen hell itself. I killed no less than a dozen child-soldiers, all far younger and more unprepared then you. I witnessed as commissars from Thirteen shot continental rebels for retreating, said continentals dying have made a good decision for once. With this sword-" she drew her gladius for emphasis "-I sliced off a man's hand before decapitating him. And I had the _pleasure_ of one of my eighteen-year old subordinates-a young woman who was far more of a man then you could _try_ to be, in spite of her reproductive organs-bleed out with her head cradled in my lap, crying for her mother. So none of us need your shit today, boy. Am I understood?" Before he could answer, she kneed him in the groin, sending him crashing to the ground squealing.

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" He replied.

One of the District Four Militiamen, wearing a somewhat-anarchonistic uniform that included an old helmet and a new tactical vest, walked up to her.

"Lieutenant Domitius?" He asked.

"What is it, Militiaman?"

He smiled and extended his hand. "Lawrence Fisher, Victor of the Seventy-Second Hunger Games and member of the District Four Loyalist Militia. But you'll know me as your second-in-command's brother."

She shook his hand just as the only other Lieutenant in the battalion discovered them.

"Lawrence! Lawrence!"

Laura ran into her brother's arms and hugged him tightly. "I was so worried about you!"

"I was too, Laura," he replied.

"What happened to Mom, Dad and Clara? Are they okay?"

The older Fisher flinched. "Bad news: Our parents were killed before they could evacuate along with their staff; rebel bastards spared not even the maid's daughter."

At this, Laura fell to her knees and began to sob. Enobaria moved to comfort her.

"Good news?" Lawrence smiled while taking off Laura's helmet and crouching to look her in the eye. "You're gonna be an aunt soon, Laura. All my hard work with Clara has paid off."

At this she wiped her eyes and sniffled while smiling at her brother's somewhat perverted humor. "Oh shut up, you just had to have sex with her. That's entertainment practically."

"Break's over, troops," Flavius interrupted. "We got an evacuation to defend here, move it!"

"You heard the man, boys and girls!" Carney announced in response. "Get off your asses now!"

As Enobaria left to rejoin Bravo Platoon, she noticed something over by the train station.

One older Cadet-seventeen at the very least-with sandy hair and Amber eyes was fidgeting in a way that would make him a piss-poor Career Tribute. The other was a small girl who-judging by her height of five feet alone-couldn't be older than eleven (although she was definitely older given her facial appearance) with chin-length red hair that brought out her blue eyes was screaming at him. It would've been amusing in better circumstances.

**ME: How was that?**


	14. Interlude: Fire!

**ME: Ready, Aim, Fire! (Yes, the chapter titles are references to RVB) A/N: Interlude. Warning: Here comes the fiery crucible that is combat. **

_"MEDIC!" Enobaria yelled out desperately. "MEDIC, WE NEED A MEDIC OVER HERE!"_

_But the Lieutenant only had basic medical training and even she knew a goner when she saw one. The woman-no, girl; she barely looked eighteen-had been fatally wounded and would now bleed out._

_Worse, with her emerald green eyes and dark hair, she resembled Clove far too much. Enobaria cradled her subordinate's head in her lap; she was a Peacekeeper and Warrior of Two like her sister had been for volunteering, she deserved as much comfort as possible._

_"Mama," the girl pleaded weakly. "Mama..."_

_She definitely was on death's door now; the most informal way Peacekeepers usually addressed their parents was to refer to them as Mom and Dad. The poor kid was now verbally regressing as she forever left Earth. Enobaria never believed in any religion, for it was forbidden in Panem, but she prayed to whatever higher powers existed to allow this girl to rest in the afterlife. That particular law would no longer be heeded by her, for denying the girl even the illusion of eternal peace was wrong in every way._

_"Mama..."_

_Enobaria found herself checking the girl's pulse; she was dead, and her body grew colder. She looked at the dog tags:_

_FLAVIUS_

_CONSTANCE F_

_30633-71984-CF_

_O POS_

_ARMY_

_Major Flavius walked over. She remembered; this Constance girl was his younger cousin, a fresh recruit recently assigned to her and Laura to protect the citizens of Two. And she had failed to protect her, although the Lieutenant just had to take one glance at her Major to know he felt the same way if not even more so._

Bravo Platoon, consistent of roughly fifty Peacekeepers, was grateful to have been reinforced by a group of Loyalist Militia soldiers from all of the Career Districts, including a Victor named Lawrence Fisher.

Commanding roughly half of the forward defense of the evacuation efforts, Enobaria noticed that Lawrence's hands were shaking as he gripped his medium machine gun, an automatic weapon like the SAW but firing 7.62x51mm rounds instead of 5.56x45mms. But it was not of fear, but rage. And she knew what fueled his anger (and probably his sister's).

The rebel army was marching towards their positions every nanosecond, and since District Two was the only District that did not revolt against the Government of Panem (in that the local populace remained largely loyal, more so then One and Four although the refugees were proof that not all were welcoming treason into their hearts), the rebels only needed to leave token garrisons in the conquered Districts while sending the bulk of their troops to Two. From information gathered from POWs (namely worldweary continental ones), the primary strategy of Thirteen's military was to send waves of unarmed/poorly-equipped continentals to exhaust Peacekeepers and deplete their ammo. Judging by a bitter joke she had overheard from two captured Rebs and her own experience, the Lieutenant presumed it correct.

"You ever seen a dead Thirteener?" A dark-skinned boy eighteen at most with an Eleven accent asked another with a Six accent.

"No, I have not," replied the male prisoner from Six. "They conveniently never seem to die."

Worse was the fact said army was now choosing to broadcast their propaganda in the most obnoxious manner possible.

"Peacekeepers and Loyalist Militia troops," the political officer from Thirteen yapped, "surrender! Do not sacrifice your lives for the sake of greedy Capitolite hedonists!"

The District One female she had disciplined earlier chose the perfect moment to unveil a common insult regarding the Rebellion's leader that had been written via permanent marker ink.

"COIN LOVES THE COCK!"

The flustered commissar growled, but an announcement came from Major Flavius.

"Commander," he asked, "do you want my answer regarding surrendering?"

"YES!" The Thirteener yelled, clearly annoyed.

"Here it is!"

Just as Flavius finished his sentence, there was the distinct report of a .50 caliber anti-material rifle. The political officer's head exploded like a watermelon, and the battle began.

"BRAVO PLATOON!" Enobaria ordered. "FIX BAYONETS!" They could get close, she reasoned; no need for the Loyalists to be overconfident and get caught with their pants down.

Artillery shells, fired from both mortars and howitzers, rained down upon the initial waves of rebels (with no Thirteeners, conveniently, in their ranks). However, in spite of this and in a manner that was, a Private with a District Two accent stated rather eloquently, "Fucking illogical," they continued to advance to their deaths screaming battle cries.

"FOR OUR PARENTS!" Lawrence yelled, sending a controlled burst into a gray-uniformed rebel; the Peacekeeper officer bitterly reflected Laura, guarding her platoon's right flank, would undoubtedly utter (if not already saying it) the same battle cry. "DEATH TO THOSE WHO RAPED AND MURDERED SALACIA, A HOUSEKEEPER'S DAUGHTER WHO NEVER AS MUCH AS SLAPPED ANYONE!"

_Oh_, Enobaria thought, rage boiling over as she took out a rebel NCO/officer-type, _those Thirteeners didn't just have to murder a girl for her mother's employer, they had to make her suffer a fate worse than death too? Good job_ improving _Panem, Katniss Everdeen_.

The Militia volunteers and Peacekeepers joined Lawrence in outlining everything wrong with the Rebellion. "FOR DISTRICT ONE'S DEFILED GIRLS!" "DEATH TO THE RAPISTS OF DISTRICT FOUR!" "JOHNNY REB, YOUR POLLUTING OF THE GENE POOL AND NATION WITH YOUR IDEALS AND ACTIONS SHALL FOREVER END!"

The unarmed cannon fodder waves, along with the suicide vest-bombers and those not armed with firearms, now largely lay dead in front of the barricades. Now the rebels sent in their best; trim men and women in gray uniforms, experienced continental soldiers now wearing helmets and, most tragically, insurgents who looked to be from the Career Districts, particularly Two.

These veteran troops now made full use of their tactics, equipment and experience as any of the Peacekeepers she commanded would. They did not charge stupidly, only running into the gunfire of the Loyalist soldiers when they needed to. Even then, they made sure to have only some charge while the others offered suppressing fire. Because of it, more rebels lived while Peacekeepers and Loyalist Militia soldiers died.

Like bacteria, Enobaria reflected, they had adapted and were now more resilient. But a body's immune system could adapt as well, and she was one of many white blood cells.

Enobaria noticed one of the Thirteeners, a fourteen-year old dark-skinned girl that vaguely resembled Rue from the Seventy-Fourth Games, grab a grenade. As if she was on autopilot, the Lieutenant immediately aimed and fired her rifle, emptying her magazine.

But alas, the girl was still able to throw it with the last of her energy while shouting, "LONG LIVE THE MOCKINGJAY!"

The frag grenade sailed through the air and landed behind the barricades. A District One Militiaman noticed and without hesitation threw his body over it; Enobaria already knew what would happen.

"GRENADE! GET CLEAR, GET-."

The man was cut off by the frag exploding, blood splattering on Enobaria's visor because of how close the Peacekeeper officer was. A Peacekeeper combat medic (distinguishable by red cross markings on her uniform) ran over, but she held up her hand. The hero who had saved his siblings-in-arms lives had done so by sacrificing his own; he would receive his honors, unfortunately, posthumously.

Ejecting her empty magazine, Enobaria grabbed for a spare one only to face a rebel that had somehow gotten past the defenses armed only with a mace.

"DEATH TO THE CAPITOL!" He yelled, swinging said mace and knowing her rifle was unloaded.

The Lieutenant reflected on the fact Johnny Reb didn't know a bayoneted rifle, unloaded or not, was a deadly weapon, more so in the hands of those trained to use it. She avoided the strike then slashed at his throat.

The result was instantaneous-the rebel fell to the ground clutching his bleeding throat eerily reminiscent of Marvel from Clove's Career Pack, looking up at her with pleading eyes. For both the pragmatic reason of neutralizing an enemy and moral mercy Enobaria inserted a new magazine into her rifle, loaded a single round in the chamber, switched to semi-auto and squeezed the trigger.

Suddenly there was the roar of internal combustion engines (which Enobaria remembered from both her schooling and training to be fueled by hydrogen), which indicated the arrival of metal beasts for the rebels. The vehicles were a mixture of technicals (namely modified pickups with machine guns), gun trucks (also armed but not converted civilian vehicles) and motorcycles with armed sidecars attached. Like the cavalry from her childhood stories, they charged at the enemies of their compatriots.

The Lieutenant gunned down one of the sidecar gunners just as a rocket flew from one of the launchers and slammed into a gun truck, reducing it to scrap. A stray howitzer round fell on a technical and utterly obliterated it. The mechanical horses were not as effective as reinforcements as they were during the Battle of the Outskirts of Two.

Suddenly Remus Thread spoke over their frequency. "This is Head Peacekeeper Thread to all units tasked with defending the evacuation efforts, break-break!" There was a brief pause. "All units, be advised: Radar has detected a flight of four, repeat, four bombers on headings that indicate their target is the train station! I say again, bombers incoming and targeting the train station!"

"Shit!" One of her NCOs yelled. "Someone alert those triple-A gunners now!"

"C'mon, Nero!" A female voice yelled.

Enobaria turned around to find the two Cadets (other then the upstart) who stood out in her mind running towards the frontline. The boy was somehow carrying not one but _two_ SAM launchers in addition to his rifle, while the girl was struggling to keep up since she was weighed down by an oversized backpack.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" Lawrence yelled. "The Major ordered you to defend the station-."

"Still doing that, technically!" The redhead interrupted, while the boy who was apparently named Nero handed her a SAM launcher. "And you're welcome, Fisher!"

"Ma'am," Nero said, his hands shaking, "I hope you're a good-."

A stray round slammed into the barricade; the bullet didn't penetrate or even injure anyone indirectly, but the male Cadet screamed louder then a prepubescent Capitolite girl.

"Oh come on, that didn't even harm any of us let alone you!" The ginger yelled. She grabbed his assault rifle and offered it to Lawrence before taking off her backpack and unzipping it. "Who wants more ammo?!"

The Peacekeeper officer had never fired a SAM in anger, but she knew how to operate it. Waiting to gain a lock on one of the cowardly terror-bombers, she braced herself for the recoil inherent in all ballistic weapons.

"Clear?" Enobaria asked.

"Clear, ma'am," Nero half-whimpered.

"Firing!" She yelled as the Lieutenant squeezed the trigger. "Missile away!"

The hovercraft was evasive, however, and thus the two missiles launched before her failed to hit the engines-as did hers.

Instead, Enobaria watched as the hovercraft had it's left wing blown off (she could not believe that had happened instead of an engine explosion). As a result, the pilots lost control and the aircraft crashed into a group of rebel soldiers. Evidently the bombs somehow detonated, for then the thing exploded and was reduced to burning scrap. She could have sworn she saw a piece of debris decapitate a Thirteen officer with a cap on instead of a helmet.

Lawrence also gained a kill. Using his machine gun, he shot down another of the bombers. In an awful rebel propo video (which claimed that the Boys and Girls in White had the barbarism to exterminate a District Eight civilian hospital, when in reality disguised Thirteen ones did it to justify withholding medical supplies), Everdeen and her cousin had somehow managed to shoot down Peacekeeper hovercrafts with bows and arrows. This was more realistic-the District Four Victor was using a military-grade weapon meant for combat, not some toy meant to encourage ignorant rabble to turn to treason and rebellion. If arrows with that kind of firepower existed, it meant Thirteen somehow was dumb enough to value their lie-ridden propaganda over common sense when it came to military matters. President Coin couldn't be bothered to just shove a gun into her bird's arms?

The other two hovercraft were not shot down by SAMs, but the cowardly bomber pilots woes were not over just yet. Their AA weapons were each equipped with four .50 cal machine guns, and the bullets were HEIAP rounds with the equivalent firepower of a 20mm autocannon shell, far more powerful then the Mockingjay's arrows. The rebel bastards never stood a chance and were shot down-hell, Enobaria even saw one of the pair of would-be mass murderers blow up above ground due to their hovercraft's bombs going off.

The Loyalists cheered at this, and together Peacekeepers and Militia volunteers fought with renewed vigor as their morale shot up. It was as if a light switch had been flipped; the rebels either began to retreat or surrender. They had done it-the orphans, pregnant women, children with families and other helpless civilians otherwise doomed to be tortured to death would now be safe from the hordes!

Enobaria, intoxicated with sheer happiness, began to sing an updated version of the Battle Cry of Loyalists.

"_Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys and girls, we'll rally once again,_

_Shouting the battle cry of Loyalists!_

_We will rally from the hillside, the mountains and the plains,_

_Shouting the battle cry of Loyalists!_

_Chorus_

_Boys and girls in white forever! Hurrah, boys and girls, hurrah!_

_Down with Mockingjay and her rebel army's treasonous banner, up with the Eagle,_

_While we rally round the flag, boys and girls, rally once again,_

_Shouting the battle cry of Loyalists!_

_Chorus_

_We are springing to the call as did our siblings from the Dark Days seventy-five years ago,_

_Shouting the battle cry of Loyalists!_

_And we will fill our vacant ranks with a million brave men and women,_

_Shouting the battle cry of Loyalists!_

_Chorus_

_We will welcome to our numbers the loyal, true and brave,_

_Shouting the battle cry of Loyalists!_

_And although they may be of humble origins, not a man or woman shall be a traitorous rebel,_

_Shouting the battle cry of Loyalists!_

_Chorus_

_So we're springing to the call from the North, from the South, from the East and from the West,_

_Shouting the battle cry of Loyalists!_

_And we'll hurl the rebel traitors from the land they think is theirs to plunder,_

_Shouting the battle cry of Loyalists!_

Suddenly the redheaded girl slipped and fell. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"

"CLAUDIA!" Nero yelled, more fearful for his odd choice of a friend then his own shadow now.

She held up a frag, undoubtedly a rebel one. The Lieutenant flinched, while the Peacekeepers and Militia volunteers all stopped singing virtually immediately.

Instead of being fearful, Claudia seemed pissed off beyond belief even though she had a devious smile on her face. "Mr. Fisher, sir!" Wait, now she was expressing proper respect for a Victor?

"What is it, kid?" Lawrence asked, his eyes indicating his grim satisfaction at saving civilians and avenging his family by sending two would-be mass murderers to forever burn in hell.

She held up her prize. "You may have just gotten a crash course on military-grade weaponry in comparison to your sister, but I'm sure you can see what's wrong with this picture."

"Well it hasn't detonated," the District Four native replied. "Must be a dud, although not too surprising because compared to weapons factory workers from Two-."

He paused, and Enobaria suddenly knew both why the grenade hadn't required a noble Loyalist to lay down his or her life and why the Victor stopped speaking.

His first words on the matter were rather elegant and refined, only not nearly as faux in manner as that Trinket Capitolite who served as Escort for Twelve.

"Neptune's cock!"

Claudia growled in agreement. "Asshole Thirteeners can't even remember to pull a marsdamn pin, worthless fuckers." She then smiled and whispered into his ear.

Lawrence grinned as well. "Hey, prisoners! This is Lawrence Fisher, District Four Victor and Loyalist Militia volunteer! Any of you assholes from District Thirteen?"

"YES!" One with a cap-did Thirteen's pathetic excuse for leadership value fashion over not being killed needlessly?-shouted. "We are inhabitants of the glorious bunker where scientific socialism flourishes, Capitolite consumerist pig-dog!"

"Fuck you too," Lawrence replied. "Before I have to tell you to kiss my ass, do you know of the fate of the Mayor of my home and his wife as well as their staff and said staff's families?"

"Yes!" Replied one of the Thirteeners in that particular group, this one a female. "And I know you're the Mayor's son! You were paraded about on television, and the greedy Capitolite hedonists as well as your bourgeoisie kind ate it up! The son of a supposedly benevolent governor, who risked it all and earned his own home and earnings by volunteering during Year Seventy-Two. Pathetic! All you did was murder helpless children and then your own so-called allies in exchange for an extravagant crown made with the blood, sweat and tears of the oppressed proletariat! Your father's housekeeper, being a whorish class traitor, had the nerve to say you were a good and polite boy and in fact like a son to her on top of a brother to her corrupted daughter! Well, a few of our men showed her what we would do to Snow's granddaughter, with her witnessing it occur to her child, who was doomed to fight against us one way or another in exchange for something as needless and classist as money anyway! I taped her eyes open!"

Enobaria told the monster her thoughts immediately. "You fucking Thirteen bitch! This is exactly why I joined the Peacekeepers; to defend Panem from sick ghouls like you! You are the reason why the Rebellion needs to be cut out like a cancer before everyone dies because of your treason!"

"What are you gonna do, Peacekeeper?" Taunted one of the other Thirteeners in the group. Notably, she noticed that the gray-uniformed rebels who surrendered outside of the merry band of rapists and marauders were now nervously backing away from their inhumanly cruel comrades. The fact their faces showed genuine emotion ranging from being merely disturbed/horrified to outright disgust made her realize that not all of the cave-dwellers were willful agents of Coin and merely had an unfortunate birthplace.

Enobaria opened her mouth, but Lawrence spoke first. "Don't worry, boys and girls, I _definitely_ won't shoot you," he said while patting Claudia on the shoulder.

"FRAG OUT!"

As the grenade sailed through the air, the monsters facial expressions changed from arrogant to terrified beyond reason. But their overconfidence combined with fear to slow their reactions, and only the female pathetic excuse of a human being survived; she was now moaning in pain, having been the farthest away from the explosion but that did not stop the fragments from making her unable to move without having to crawl. All the others were either dead or dying now, and their deaths were far too quick; given Salacia's cruel and undeserved rape (followed by murder, so she didn't even have a chance to recover), it was legally mandated that post-trial they be executed via flamethrower like the traitorous lech Cray.

Lawrence got over the barricade and ran to the bitch, his sister following close behind. A rebel POW with dark skin like Carney (probably a District Eleven farmhand-he looked too bulky to be a merchant or any of the other occupations available to the civilians there) ran up to them, his hands held above his head and clearly empty. Undoubtedly the rebel was taking proper precautions to avoid being shot, but why he wanted to meet with them was beyond her.

"What is it, prisoner?" Laura asked.

"I got some moonshine in my jacket pocket, ma'am," he replied in a thick accent; definitely an Elevener. "So you can burn this bitch for what she did to the little girl!"

Enobaria had the distinct feeling her surrogate sister and the Victor were both smiling even though she couldn't even see their faces since they were looking at the farmhand-turned-rebel-soldier; the fact Laura wore the latest model of helmet and thus hid her face behind an opaque visor didn't help matters.

The Thirteener was begging for mercy now, though even the POWs from her wretched hive of a District were now eagerly awaiting her fate. At least Thirteen would not prove impossible to civilize, then. "NO! NO! NO! PLEASE, HAVE MERCY-!"

Laura slammed one white combat boot onto the communist's face. "Loyalists Devils don't show mercy to those who have murdered and raped their loved ones, Comrade." Lawrence had already finished pouring the illegal alcohol on the condemned, who had screamed even more; not that it would save her now.

"Citizen of District Thirteen, you have confessed to aiding and abetting in the rape and murder of a minor," Laura continued. "For this crime, you are hereby sentenced to death by fire." With that she lit a match and ignited the fire, initiating a new round of screams. "May hell show you the same mercy you showed Salacia, bitch!"

Both rebel POWs and Loyalists cheered as the flames grew. Enobaria applauded the orchestra of the Thirteener experienced what she had gleefully let happen to the daughter of the supposed "oppressed" she wished to liberate the loudest.

**ME: Admittedly death by fire's a tad excessive to us Westerners, but I will only play the smallest violin in the world for these bastards.**

**The Battle Cry of Loyalists was inspired by a similar modernized version of the Battle Cry of Freedom T.J.98 came up with. This one's based off the Union version; kinda ironic in that the Peacekeepers and Loyalist Milita volunteers happen to be on the wrong side. Claudia and Nero are based off Edwen "Ned" Bannon and Diocletian "Dio" Cohen, a pair of OCs belonging to ForFutureReference. **

**My headcanon is that Cressida lied about Snow broadcasting the Bombing of Eight to make Katniss perform better; honestly, how could the Peacekeepers stay loyal in light of unarmed CIVILIAN (not even military) hospitals being bombed?**

**And yes, Lawrence gunning down the hovercraft and it being called more realistic then Katniss doing it is that he's doing it with a 7.62 machine gun, while Katniss is using a damn bow and arrow. Though the fact that supposedly advanced military aircraft fly low and slow enough to be downed by a 17-year old female with a bow and arrow tells you all you need to know about Panem's aerospace capabilities.**

**"Coin loves the cock!" is based off a USMC joke involving a guy named Wagner. "Neptune's cock!" is a Four swearword/expression combining the nautical/Roman motiffs. "Marsdamn/Mars damn" is basically "goddamn" with a Roman/District Two twist, though religion is apparently outlawed in Panem given that no one brings it up. This is also my longest chapter at over 4,000 words. And the, "You ever seen a dead Thirteener?" joke is based off an American Civil War joke amongst Union infantrymen. Apparently it was general envy or interservice rivalry/the cavalry having a tendency to retreat (in the eyes of the infantry); "You ever seen a dead cavalryman?"**


	15. Interlude: Aftermath Of A Battle

**ME: Warning: This will be both a lighter and darker chapter then my previous ones. Also, spoilers for a particularly cringeworthy scene in Part 1 of the Mockingjay movie that's like something out of those stupid James Bond films. A/N: Interlude.**

The rebel prisoners were now being searched for weapons, while Flavius called a meeting of the battalion's remaining leadership.

The commander of Charlie Platoon, First Sergeant Carney, was the last to arrive.

Clearly he had participated in close-quarters combat like Enobaria had, for the Capitolite (not that he was a hedonistic debt-payer) carried his bloody Gladius in one hand and the severed head of a rebel in another.

Before joining the Peacekeepers, undoubtedly the Lieutenant would've been disturbed at the sight of a severed head. But all her training and experience caused her to only blink at the sight.

The POWs noticed this, and he tossed it at them. "These two fuckers came at me with javelin spears, okay? At this point, I'm down to my pistol so I open fire on one of 'em, but guess what? I end up running out of bullets."

"As Number One dies, his buddy Two throws his pilum-I recognized the model from my high school History class-but I'm able to dodge and draw my sword. By the time he's grabbed One's spear, I'm way too close to throw it, leading him to try and stab me."

"However, I'm able to grab the shaft with my left hand and slice off his right forearm with my right hand. Then, just as he falls to his knees screaming, some girl from Eleven who looks fifteen at most tries stabbing me with a knife. I trip her and decapitate her before she can get back up-if anything, this chick had it easy compared to Two."

"Why? Oh, he's still trying to stop the bleeding with his remaining hand. Pitying the poor bastard, I end up loping his head off and ending his misery."

"The message of the story?" Carney could've been smiling for all Enobaria knew behind his opaque visor. "Don't fuck with me, boys and girls. Or you'll end up like this guy here."

"I'm scared!" One of the child soldiers turned POW said, undoubtedly ruining his pants at Carney's not-so-empty-threat.

"Why should we trust you won't just kill us now?" A nineteen year-old male with olive skin, dark hair and gray eyes asked in a District Twelve accent.

"Because we're Loyalists," Cadet Nero replied reassuringly. "We're the good guys, the civilized side."

"Civilized?" Screamed a young woman who looked around the male's age and even resembled him-was there inbreeding in District Twelve or something? "Name's Bristel-the fact your pilots firebombed my entire home and killed nine-out-of-every-ten people there is proof that you're not civilized!"

Enobaria responded immediately: "Incorrect, Prisoner Bristel. District Twelve was destroyed by a squadron of disguised hovercraft bombers from District Thirteen by order of rebel leader Coin to both remove it as a potential staging area for a Peacekeeper assault on District Thirteen and to incite rebellion amongst the eleven other Districts not under her control."

"Bullshit!" Another rebel yelled, this one in a gray uniform and thus a Thirteener. "I saw Peacekeeper hovercrafts attack a hospital in my home of District Eight!" Or not. "Apart from setting that bitch on fire, all you've guys done is be pricks!"

Carney growled at the rebel. "Hey, don't pull the morality card on me! You assholes nearly blew up a dam in Five-do you know how much that fucking thing would cost to repair if you worthless Rebel bastards succeeded? Fuck, forget the damn money we'd have to spend, thousands of people would've drowned downstream plus all the civilians working there! Why didn't you just target the fucking substations, bitches?! You could've cut off power to the Capitol via targeting one of them or even blowing up a power line, you fuckwitted-."

Another Thirteener interrupted by saying, "Blowing up a major source of electricity with all the negative effects on District Five and Panem as a whole was never part of the plan. I hope whoever came up with that idea died slowly and painfully."

The twenty-two year old woman remembered the averted attack on one of District Five's power plants from a news report delivered by Panem's Minister of Enlightenment and Information herself, a woman named Serita Egeria that was not nearly as gaudy when it came to fashion sense as Effie Trinket.

A group of local rebels, aided by a District Thirteen special operations commando unit, had attempted to rush and suicide bomb the dam in question. The dam itself, formerly known as the Hoover Dam (named after a North American leader), had existed since before Panem was even founded. The largest of fifteen (all constructed during the North America Era) on the Colorado River (now named Mead River, after the dam's reservoir Lake Mead, said reservoir being named after the engineer who oversaw construction of the dam), it was one of (if not the) the largest employers in District Five.

When a local rebel who at least possessed a microscopic shred of humanity left heard of the plans and informed the local Peacekeeping Garrison, it was as though a switch had been flipped.

The civilian workers at the dam as well as the local citizens living downstream did not appreciate their traitorous and rebellious neighbors condemning them to a needless death due to a pointless, self-destructive act, and formed the only Loyalist Militia outside of the Career Districts.

The rebels had been forced to advance towards the dam from the east via the old Nevada Highway (named after a political subdivision from the North America Era known as a state; apparently they were considered equivalent to Districts) due to the mountainous terrain. Between the brave Peacekeepers and Militia volunteers defending the eastern entrance to the plant as well as Peacekeeper hovercraft and artillery, the would-be mass murderers were virtually entirely wiped out save for two-dozen prisoners.

Said rebels were marched to an old bridge downstream over the Mead River, where the dam manager (who lead the Milita volunteers defending his workplace during the battle) put a bullet in either their right or left knee before kicking them off the bridge. Even if they hadn't been killed by the fall, there was no way they could avoid drowning with their injuries, and frankly either fate, in Enobaria's eyes, were too good for the bastards who nearly committed mass murder on their own neighbors.

Even now that Five had been secured by the Rebellion, reports were that the pro-Loyalist insurgency was just as fierce if not more dedicated than their counterparts in One and Four-the fact thousands would've died in Five according to the most conservative estimates helped. Due to a large number of the local rebels defecting/repatriating (largely the ones who hadn't participated in the power plant attack, of course) or simply choosing to not fight anymore for savage barbarians, more troops from both District Thirteen and the continental Districts had to be brought in to garrison the area. Hell, a partisan had been rumored to have successfully assassinated a General from Thirteen. President Coriolanus Snow himself had congratulated the people of District Five for their courage, sacrifice and productivity, promising to have "the same educational opportunities granted to children of Districts One, Two and Four," extended to District Five post-war as a reward for their loyalty; which, of course, translated to Career training.

"Fisher!" Flavius yelled. "Are the POWs clean now?"

"Yup!" The Victor replied. "Some chick from Seven tried smuggling a knife in her boot, courtesy of my machine gun's stock she's gonna have a nasty headache for it. I was merciful, though, another guy wanted to cut her throat with the knife as an example."

"Understood, keep an eye on her!" The Major then contacted Command via his radio. "Command, this is Major Flavius, callsign Oscar Four Foxtrot. Radio check, over."

"Flavius," Thread's voice replied, surprisingly enough, "this is Thread. Reading you five-by-five, over."

"Sir," the Field Grade Officer replied, "we have driven off the enemy but have wounded and prisoners to deal with. I say again, be advised: We have wounded and EPWs, that's Echo Papa Whiskies. At least a hundred or so rebels, we'll try and identify officers among them later. In the meantime, send us some MEDEVAC birds! Over!"

"Copy all, Flavius, I'll send you what we can. In the meantime, secure your AO. Capitol's sent in some VIPs from the MOEI, seems they want to counter the Mockingjay's propos. Thread out."

"Alright!" Claudia yelled. "Any of you dickheads officers?"

After five seconds, only two prisoners (both in dirty gray uniforms, undoubtedly from being in combat) raised their hands.

"Captain Charles Coin," said the male in a District Thirteen accent worn-down by exposure to the outside world. He looked to be in his early-to-mid-twenties.

"Lieutenant Suzanne Boggs," said the female, who looked eighteen at the least or twenty at the most.

"Any relation to the renegade Mayor of District Thirteen, Alma Coin?" Enobaria asked. The Lieutenant figured dignifying the hag with her official title would only legitimize her in the eyes of the rebels.

"Unforutunately, yes," the Captain replied surprisingly. "I'm her nephew, actually."

"Then why are you at the front?" Claudia yelled. "Why aren't you being a wine-sipping communist dick-suck in that cave you people call Thirteen like your Auntie Alma, who hides behind a seventeen-year old hillbilly girl?"

"Politics," replied the Lieutenant named Boggs. "In that oversized bunker-I'm not mincing words regarding that hellhole by calling it a District-Coin's not as popular as she'd like among the masses, while Charles here is actually pretty decent and thus viewed more positively. With him dying in the mud, she gets to cry on and on in public about her nephew being a martyr to the cause then celebrate in private no longer having a potential rival."

"Indeed," the older officer-turned-POW replied. "As far as I'm concerned, President Coin can suck that pintsized ginger curmudgeon's non-existent dick." At this Claudia snickered.

"What's life like?" A Militia Volunteer asked. "I mean, what's life in District Thirteen like, Lieutenant?"

She glanced directly at him. "Hell itself, soldier. Everything from socks to food is strictly rationed-unless, of course, you're one of the elite. Commoners are only fed enough at the communal mess hall to subside, for there is no equivalent to tesserae or any currency in Thirteen. If you act out or do not meet the standards of the Party, you are executed. Anyone deemed genetically unfit by the local eugenics scientists, all of said scientists being proud Party members, are put to death. The lucky ones are publicly decapitated as an example of an impurity that would degrade the Proletariat; the unlucky are human test subjects for things like nerve gas experimentation."

"They kill people for their genes?" Nero asked, shaking. "And tell people how much they can eat?"

"Both, son," said Captain Coin. "In fact, citizens are forbidden from storing food away or even taking leftovers-it's considering hoarding, and along with the bourgeoisie as well as participating in activities deemed wasteful by the State constitutes Treason of the Community, one of the Four Treasons."

"And the other Treasons?" Flavius asked, a hint of fear entering into his voice.

"Treason of the State; anything from being an enemy combatant or particpating in espionage to simply protesting Party policy, rousing the rabble or sheltering other Traitors. Treason of the Mind; the religious, subversive arts and unapproved teachers. Treason of Humanity; sexual-slash-gender minorities and those afflicted by genetic disorders."

Claudia started spewing off a series of creative curses and swears at Treason of Humanity, and even though she seemed mainly interested in her much taller friend Enobaria remembered the redhead glancing at her occasionally.

The Lieutenant POW smiled grimly. "I see you're not heterosexual as well."

"Really?" One of the POWs asked. "That's what Thirteen is like?"

"She just said so, you dumbass!" Claudia responded. "And you really, seriously expect us to allow her to come to power?"

"Coin isn't just gonna be the new tyrant-."

Claudia laughed. "Look at what these officers from Thirteen said, moron! Think she and her asshole friends are just gonna set up some fair and equal representative democracy where everyone gets a vote?"

"At least we don't support a government that executes twenty-three children every year and passes the survivor around as a sex toy!" Snapped a woman with a District Four accent.

"Odair always was a man-whore," Lawrence reflected, "even as my mentor.

"That's because Snow murders the family of any Victor who disobeys him!" Snapped a Thirteener. "Plus he had to be given a rope by our head psychiatrist, Doctor Aurelius, just to keep him calm once Annie was arrested-and we had to make sure it was too small for him to hang himself with!"

"Impossible!" Laura replied. "My brother was able to get engaged and married to a virtuous woman, his childhood sweetheart and my friend Clara. Annie Cresta came of age two years ago-surely he could've married her well before the Quarter Quell. Or perhaps he values the payments of his clients more?"

"Lawrence only got to marry his wife because of his parentage!" Yelled the Thirteener. "It is one thing to kill a Mayor or his family, but one of humbler origins like Finnick, or non-Career Victors like Johanna Mason of District Seven and Haymitch Abernathy of District Twelve?"

"Johanna Mason's loved ones were all murdered by an unknown serial killer, while Abernathy is a pathetic waste of life who does not deserve a family. Ever since he won his Games-by sheer chance rather then through actual skill-he has does nothing but drink and whore with his winnings. In contrast, the great Victors Brutus, Cashmere and Gloss actually made use of what money they earned through charity and philanthropy."

"First off, Haymitch is probably still a virgin," Bristel responded. "He doesn't pay starving girls to have sex with him, for all his alcoholism-that's our pervert of a former Head Peacekeeper Cray you're talking about."

"Oh, I actually oversaw his execution by flamethrower squad!" Enobaria said.

"Why thank you, actually. Second-."

"Enough!" Carney snapped. "Look, you guys lost and your Victors are all blatant screw ups, okay? Nero-can't believe I'm actually saying a Cadet's first name-you and your friend go check the bodies for tags, okay?"

"Why not just burn them already?" One of the more zealous Milita Volunteers from Two asked. "They're rebels, they're not real people-."

The senior NCO simply glared at the Militaman, and he shut up. The rebels stared at Carney, evidently not expecting him to shut up a fellow Loyalist.

"Hey," said Nero, "wasn't that guy with the mace from our CQC class?"

"Not too good at CQC parrying, isn't he?" Claudia snickered.

The quarrier's daughter simply stared at the redhead, while Nero vocalized his dismay. "Claudia Victoria, how could you say that? You and I both knew that guy!"

"And he was dumb enough to bring his mace to a gunfight!" The female Cadet snapped while she removed a pair of dog tags from the neck of a dead rebel. "While Little Miss Onesie here brought her crossbow and arrows to a fight! Look how well her trying to be all Katniss Everdeen did against my assault rifle's bullets." Claudia then secured both the weapon and the quiver of arrows to her own back. "At least I got a souvenir."

Enobaira recognized the model from her Warrior Academy days; it was more or less an assault rifle with the barrel replaced by a crossbow, and fired arrows unlike conventional crossbows that typically used quarrels/bolts.

More Loyalists starting scavenging the corpses for weapons as well. "Isn't looting illegal?" A Militia Volunteer from Four asked.

"Looting's stealing private property from civilians," the First Lieutenant answered. "They're just getting weaponry off dead rebels, something that's actually legal and they are authorized to do it, Volunteer."

"Major Flavius," her superior's radio buzzed, "Thread again. MEDEVAC birds are inbound, the MOEI team and myself will be there shortly. Do you copy, over?"

"Sir, this is Flavius," the Major replied immediately. "Copy that, standing by."

Suddenly there was the roar of engines, and they all turned to find over a half-dozen trucks and two APCs stop. Then approximately twenty-two people disembarked from the APCs.

"Oh great..." Enobaria muttered.

The men before her (only one was female, a Lieutenant judging by the one black rectangle on each of her shoulders) were Peacekeepers, but their armbands indicated they were not your average ones. Gray with white circles each containing three black capitalized S's, they were clearly members of the special State Security Service (SSS).

**ME: Merry Christmas and Happy New Years everyone!**

**A/N: And no, the State Security Service are not a Waffen-SS/KGB Gulag Guards-analogue. I mean, totalitarian states aren't that bad. *sarcasm* The crossbow Claudia looted off a corpse is based off the TAC 15 Crossbow and it's successors/cousins and what not, which is basically a crossbow mounted on an AR-15/M16-type lower receiver instead of the upper receiver (I.e. What shoots the bullets for those not in the know) that shoots arrows instead of bolts/quarrels. And it has a range of 130 yards/118.872 meters apparently, or at least that's how long the range is as far as I know.**


	16. Interlude: State Security Service

**ME: Now it's time to see how pleasant the SSS is, boys and girls. A/N: Interlude.**

The leader of the nearly two-dozen State Security Peacekeepers, a Captain by his rank insignia, glared at her. The Lieutenant was glad their visors ensured she did not have to make eye contact. "Where's your Commanding Officer, girl?"

"What's it to you, boy?" She replied, daring the POG-ass REMF to complain at the returned insult.

"I'm her CO, Captain," Major Flavius said diplomatically. "Is there a problem?"

"I need to know if you have any officers amongst your prisoners," he replied somewhat less arrogantly. Evidently the Captain was intimidated by Flavius's oak leaf.

This time Captain Charles Coin answered. "Myself and my good friend Lieutenant Suzanne Boggs are the only ones who surrendered-."

The SSS Lieutenant proceeded to interrupt him with a, "Soldiers, seize those two!"

A squad of the armband-wearing Peacekeepers obeyed her orders then proceeded to move in. Two of them (one undoubtedly the medic by the red cross markings) kept the rest of the prisoners at bay, while the two four-man fireteams each forced one of the officers to their knees before handcuffing them while shoving black hoods over their heads.

"Captain, what is the meaning of this?" Flavius angrily protested.

The arrogant bastard actually tutted before handing him a clipboard. "Orders directly from the President, Major," said the officer emotionlessly. "All rebel military officers and civilian leaders are to be sent to a secure facility for interrogation; the rest of the rabble, like your remaining prisoners, are to be sent to a reeducation camp."

"Reeducation camps?" One of the child POWs asked.

"Yes, a reeducation camp," replied the SSS Lieutenant. "There in exchange for labor to support the war effort you will be provided with adequate food, water and shelter."

"No way I am going to a camp after leaving District Thirteen!" A POW with a similar accent to the two officers snapped while reaching behind his back. He pulled out a knife and charged. "I DIE FREE!"

A pair of SSS PFCs opened fire. Their bullets slammed into the Thirteener, and his gray shirt was stained red by the blood from the wounds.

Enobaria stared at the uniformed body. Thirteen was definitely hell itself if the soldier would rather die then be taken captive and sent to a reeducation camp.

_Reeducation camps? The SSS are assholes who run _prisons_, Enobaria, you know that._

The Captain shook his head. "One less mouth to feed and guard in the camps, then. Lieutenant, you and the men get these rabble moving onto the trucks!"

"You heard him, prisoners!" She snapped, slapping and backhanding a female POW for attempting to make eye contact. "Move it!"

Noticeably, the two prisoners from Twelve (Bristel and the nineteen-year old) stuck together. The remaining prisoners were herded into the trucks, where the entrances were shut and locked tight before the engines (acting as generators for the electric motors) roared to life and the trucks drove away. The SSS troopers watched as they left, undoubtedly to dissuade any POW from attempting to escape.

"Command to Captain Homma, come in," a voice said over the SSS officer's radio. "Henry, are you receiving? Over."

"Affirmative, Command," he replied as Enobaria listened in.

"Remain on station for now, Head Peacekeeper Thread as well as Centurion Panem and his crew will require a protective detail. Acknowledge."

"Wilco," replied the armband-wearer, frustrated. "Homma out."

He turned to his Lieutenant. "You, get those two in the vehicles. One per APC, that way if one gets taken out interrogators will still have one to play with."

Remarkably enough, one of the Sergeants kicked Coin in the leg. "On your feet, maggot!" The NCO snapped.

The two hooded prisoners were forced into the APCs, while nearby Peacekeeper medical hovercrafts landed.

They were a gift from the heavens. Between the extra hands and the supplies, more then a few Loyalists would live to celebrate their next birthday. A few, however, succumbed to fatal wounds anyway or were euthanized for their own comfort. Enobaria tried and failed to block out the noise of a female Loyalist soldier screaming as the medics had to amputate her leg. Morphling always helped, but as trained professionals the medics knew more then any other Peacekeeper that you could only give a patient so much before an addiction developed, or worse, the patient died. Fortunately there was a highly-advanced healing gel that, when applied, quickly stopped the bleeding. The original formula had not only survived since before the founding of Panem but had been refined by decades of scientific research-and-development.

Another hovercraft landed, but no medics egressed. Instead exited four Peacekeepers with the Panem Eagle on their vests but no other modifications to their uniforms, making them members of the Praetorian Guard. Then came Head Peacekeeper Remus Thread, who gave off a more tired vibe then before the war as his two aides flanked him. Finally was a five-person media team from the MOEI; an actor, a reporter/director, an assistant for said reporter/director as well as two helmeted cameramen.

_So this is who Centurion Panem really is?_

Said Centurion had two rectangles on each shoulder (not that the SSS Captain had earned his either), an Eagle like the Praetorians on his vest and a transparent visor, the last of which was undoubtedly for the benefit of the Capitolite audience.

But Enobaria had second thoughts when she (discreetly as possible) looked into his eyes. They were blue like hers, and she could see an honest man in those irises.

**ME: The healing gel is a real thing; Google Veti-Gel. Centurion Panem, of course, is a Captain America reference. Meanwhile Captain Henry Homma's name (and possibly future deeds) is based off the head of the SS and the Japanese General behind the Bataan Death March respectively.**


	17. Interlude: Developments

**ME: Now it's time for a twist. A/N: Interlude.**

"Major Flavius?"

"Yes, sir?"

Though the Head Peacekeeper wore a helmet (both for protection against bullets and fragmentation/shrapnel and to keep rebel sharpshooters from recognizing him), Enobaria could tell that Remus Thread was glad he didn't have to put on a false face of energy for the cameras.

"What are those two Cadets doing, along with everyone else beyond the barricades?" The Major General asked.

Flavius glanced at them. "Carney is having them retrieve dog tags from the dead rebels, sir. We'll have their corpses cremated as soon as they're done; the others are scavenging the dead bodies for supplies and weapons."

One of her Peacekeepers, a fresh recruit who had undergone a baptism of fire fighting in the Outskirts, retrieved a magazine from a dead rebel and inserted it into his assault rifle before test-firing it and sending a burst of bullets into the chest of said rebel.

Claudia only glanced at the Private while Nero glared at him. "Dude, what the hell? He's already dead, don't desecrate the corpse!"

The Peacekeeper grunted and shrugged. "Hey, chill! I'm just testing to see if these Thirteen bullets work as well as ours do!"

"Test them on something else, then," Nero replied.

"Hey, man," the Private defended himself, "Carney threw a fucking head at the POWs."

"That doesn't matter," the Cadet replied.

"Then why bitch at me but not Top? Too much of a mama's boy to risk it with a non-com?"

Nero sighed. "I probably should've said something beforehand, but that ship's sailed. What matters is what we're doing now."

The seventeen-year old boy was both naive and a breath of fresh air for Enobaria. Naive in that standards had long broken down with the Destruction of District Twelve and other war crimes; a breath of fresh air in that he still attempted to follow said standards.

"Major," Thread went on, "I'd like you to meet Stephanos Irons, AKA Centurion Panem. Julia Flickerman here is the director of the crew, and yes she's Caesar Flickerman's niece. The young man with the shaved head is her assistant, Publius. The two cameramen are Manius and Marcus."

The Ministry of Enlightenment and Information crew was a diverse bunch. Enobaria already knew Irons had blue eyes like her, and judging by his eyebrows was a blonde. Julia Flickerman had wisely opted to cut her hair short, and as such had a butch haircut that was popular amongst female Peacekeepers for practicality. Her assistant Publius went farther and shaved his head bald; to the Lieutenant's annoyance, his right cheek featured a Peacekeeper tattoo. Was this worthless poser compensating for something? The two cameramen, Manius and Marcus, were clean-shaven and resembled each other enough that she thought they were brothers; additionally, they looked ordinary by Capitolite standards and probably came from humbler origins like Carney.

"What's with the tattoo?" She asked Publius, trying and failing to conceal her anger.

"Got it to remember my enlistment," the assistant replied.

"Wait, what?"

Publius smiled before shaking his head. "Being a Lieutenant-I memorized the rank insignias-you probably know most Capitolite enlistees sign up out of debt, assuming they aren't some thrill-seeking moron with too much wanderlust. But not too many sign on to relieve their relatives of debt."

He paused, letting it sink in. "My moron of a brother ended up more or less bankrupt; then my parents made me enlist or they'd disown me and cut me off from my rightful inheritance. Luckily, I got injured in training and left with an honorable discharge. Then I got this tattoo, so every day when I wake up in the morning and look in the mirror to shave I know what I could've ended up as."

"Could've ended up as?" The Lieutenant snapped. "You think you're too good for Peacekeeping, Publius?"

"Not at all," he replied. "I just never wanted to be a Boy in White, Lieutenant. It's easier to take pride in something when you're not forced into it."

Enobaria nodded before glancing at his superior. "Why are you at the front, Miss Flickerman? Isn't your job a bit dangerous for a niece of the Host of the Hunger Games?"

The Capitolite woman nodded. "Indeed, but I wanted to do this job because of my father. He volunteered and became a Peacekeeper; his right leg was blown off by a bomb during his fifth year of service. He never had four Praetorians to protect him."

The District Two native was shocked. The MOEI crew was definitely a cut above the socialites that populated the Capitol.

Julia Flickerman tapped her earpiece before speaking again. "Egeria wants us on the air in t-minus two minutes, people. I was told there was a Victor from District Four named Lawrence Fisher here?"

"Indeed," Lawrence replied. "You want me on camera, Julia-may I call you Julia, Miss?"

"Yes to both questions," she answered. "One minute."

The countdown started. "In five, four, three, two, one..."

Julia smiled for the cameras. "Greetings, citizens of Panem! This is Julia Flickerman reporting live from District Two, where brave Peacekeeper and Loyalist Militia soldiers have successfully fended off a savage attack on the evacuation efforts taking place in this fine District's Central City! And I have the privilege of interviewing one of the fighters; Lawrence Fisher, Victor of the Seventy-Second Hunger Games, acting Mayor of District Four and Loyalist Militia volunteer!"

"Thank you, Julia," the young Victor answered. "Is there anything you want me to talk about?"

"Yes!" She replied. "Lawrence, there are a lot of people in the Capitol, my uncle Caesar and President Coriolanus Snow himself included, who wish to hear a first-hand account of the war."

His face was somber. "What the Second Rebellion has unleashed upon Panem has been nothing but sorrow and misery. District Twelve was exterminated by hovercraft bombers from Thirteen at the order of Alma Coin, the leader of this terrorist insurrection. And that has been just one cruelty-my own parents were murdered just for not choosing to support the rebels, while the daughter of our housekeeper, a sweet girl named Salacia, was gang-raped before her own execution by these monsters who fly the banner of the Mockingjay." Enobaria noted Julia cringing at the mentioned of Salacia's torture. "Fellow citizens of Panem, this is our mutual enemy-dangerous, cruel, savage and fanatical. The Mockingjay, the 'Girl on Fire' as they call her, only destroys. What we're dealing with is a cancer that cannot merely be irradiated or drugged, but has to be surgically removed."

"Thank you for your time, Lawrence," said the reporter, "you and your sister Laura have my heartfelt condolences."

"Hey, Cadet?" Irons asked. "Mind if I see that SAM launcher?"

"Sure," Nero replied before blinking in horror. "Uh, I mean, sir, yes, sir!"

The actor smiled as he took the weapon. Was he showing off for the cameras? "Thank you, kid."

Enobaria watched as he aimed the SAM launcher. What is he doing-.

Suddenly Irons pulled the trigger, sending a missile out of the launcher. The Lieutenant's trained eyes followed it in spite of her initial shock, then she realized that he must have somehow noticed a cloaked rebel hovercraft.

Approximately one second later, the SAM slammed into the hovercraft. The vehicle plummeted to the ground, it's incendiary munitions detonating and reducing the hovercraft to flaming wreckage.

"HOW THE FUCK DID YOU SEE THAT HOVERCRAFT?!" Claudia Victoria half-questioned, half-yelled. "IT WAS FUCKING CLOAKED!"

"I saw the ripple," answered the Capitolite calmly and casually.

"Stephanos!" Julia yelled. "Minister Egeria, on behalf of President Snow, is asking what just happened?"

Enobaria's opinion of Irons skyrocketed as he answered solemnly. "Mr. President, sir, I just shot down a rebel bomber in District Two, just outside the central city of this fine District. The two terrorists who flew this machine of death intended to bomb civilians evacuating into the arms of our brave Peacekeepers."

Irons stared at one of the cameramen, both of whom were now focusing on him with their helmets. "I saw one of those awful propaganda videos Katniss Everdeen makes. That disgrace of a Victor claimed our forces had bombed a civilian hospital in District Eight, and that we would burn with her." He pointed at the wreckage, once Thirteen gray. "Fire isn't catching, Mockingjay. None of the brave Loyalists here are on fire; we won't burn with you!"

***Nut CIC***

Head Peacekeeper of the Armies Gaius Augustus sighed before running a hand through his thinning hair.

Romulus Thread, one of his best officers, was dead as a doornail, District Two was under siege by rebel troops, the Capitol had sent a civilian news crew into battle and now Loyalist civilians were cramming into the bunkers. He was relieved to know, courtesy of Romulus's brother Remus, that a cloaked rebel bomber that had evaded Fort Cheyenne's radar was now burning wreckage.

"Sir," one of the radar operators reported to Augustus in a Capitol accent, "I got a bogey."

"A bogey?" Augustus replied, surprised it hadn't cloaked itself.

"Affirmative, no transponder on our IFF system." The radar operator typed at his station. "Identified: Subject appears to be a Thirteen design."

"Take it out, then," he ordered immediately. "We have to protect the evacuation."

"Sir," said the operator, "target appears to be a transport model, not a bomber. Repeat, it is a transport. And it's current velocity makes it too slow for a combat model."

"Very well," he conceded. He tapped another Peacekeeper in the CIC on her shoulder. "You, alert our fighters and inform them of the transport. Tell them if it gets aggressive to take it out."

"Yes, sir," she replied before flipping a switch. "This is Minerva to all fighters, we have an enemy transport in our airspace. Repeat, enemy transport in our airspace. If it gets aggressive, shoot it down. I say again, destroy the enemy hovercraft if it gets aggressive."

***Back to the front***

Lawrence checked his medium machine gun. Head Peacekeeper Remus Thread had informed them that Command had detected an enemy hovercraft headed in their direction. Remarkably, it seemed to be a transport instead of a bomber, but Major Flavius had wisely opted to have the triple-A gunners on standby anyway.

The hovercraft landed in front of them, near a soon-to-be funeral pyre for the dead rebels (they hadn't finished it both because of the hovercraft and the lack of POW labor). It was definitely a rebel one, clad in a gray paint job and possessing a District Thirteen seal. However, it possessed red cross markings.

Then the ramp lowered. "Please, don't shoot!" A pair of pilots in gray flight suits, a male and a female, exited. "We're unarmed, unarmed!"

**ME: Plot twist and a cliffhanger!**


	18. Interlude: Two Sides Of A Coin

**ME: Now time for common decency from both sides in addition to brutality. A/N: Interlude.**

"Get down on the ground!" Lawrence ordered the two pilots.

"Please," the male one pleaded, "we're unarmed-."

"We'll see about that, now shut up and get down on the ground before I put a burst of bullets through your chest."

Although Enobaria was uncomfortable about the Victor's threats, they worked. Both of the pilots laid down on the ground obediently. "Cadets," she ordered, "frisk them."

Nero and Claudia patted the rebels down; no concealed pistols or knives were detected.

"Anyone else onboard your hovercraft?" The Lieutenant asked the prisoners.

"Just us eight!" Said a middle-aged male voice in a District Thirteen accent. A man in a gray medic uniform with red cross markings came out with seven other people. "Doctor Aurelius, I'm a combat surgeon!"

Four of the others were in Thirteen uniforms, while the other three were a more hodgepodge outfit undoubtedly from the continental Districts, one of them looking to be a District Two native with blonde hair, blue eyes and an athletic build.

"Why are you here?" Thread asked.

"Orders from Defense Minister Boggs and Commander Lyme!" Replied Aurelius. "As a show of good faith, myself as well as one nurse and six medics have been dispatched to provide medical aid to both wounded Peacekeepers and Loyalist Militia members in addition to injured civilians!"

"What?" Lawrence asked, stunned.

"I say we arrest the doctor and nurse but crucify the medics," one of the SSS PFCs suggested. "We'll need to be terrifying to drive Johnny Reb out of District Two."

Nero glared at the soldier; Enobaria noticed his amber eyes were hardened by combat and now had the strength and resolve of steel. "I hope I never look forward to torturing someone to death, you're a sadist if you willfully wish that on medics."

"Why you little-."

"Go suck my non-existent dick, asshole," Claudia snapped.

One of the SSS sadist's friends drew a baton. "You petulant bitch!"

Laura drew her sidearm and pointed it at his head. "You just brough a baton to a gunfight, punk."

"Enough!" Homma ordered. "We can't win a firefight with these cannon-fodder."

"Oh really?" The Lieutenant challenged him. "I have never seen you SSS bitches in a real firefight, I bet the street urchins the rebels threw at us could kick your asses."

The Captain glared at her. "Shut up, you whore-."

Thankfully Thread cut him off. "Why don't you shut up, Homma? Before I tell everyone about how you got through OCS via sucking your superiors off!"

He then turned to the POWs. "Doctor Aurelius, you are the highest ranking of your comrades, correct?"

"Yes," the medical officer replied. "I'm a Colonel, the Nurse is a freshly-commissioned Lieutenant-."

The Head Peacekeeper held up his hand. "Not important, sorry to interrupt. Here's the deal: You and the rest of your medical team will be allowed to treat the wounded in Fort Cheyenne, but under the supervision of armed guards. Try anything, and they'll put five-point-fifty-sixes in your heart. Understood, Doctor?"

"Yes, sir," Aurelius replied. "Wait, what about the pilots? You see, the male one is my son, sir!"

Thread nodded. "I see your concerns for him, but they are unfounded. He will be taken to a secure facility along with the woman."

The SSS Lieutenant and one squad of the armband-wearing goons were ordered to escort the medical team to Fort Cheyenne, much to their chargin. Meanwhile the pilots were taken into custody.

Enobaria dug into an MRE, which wasn't her mother's home cooking but tasted like a Victor's feast after a battle. It was a spaghetti and meatballs one-according to a District One Militiaman whose peacetime occupation was a restaurant chef, the dish was a North American one whose creators immigrated from a land known as Italy, the proud birthplace of the Romans. She savored every morsel.

Suddenly one of the cameramen, Manius by his nametag, ran up to her. "Ma'am, come quick! Captain Homma and some of his men are torturing the new prisoners!"

**ME: Cliffhanger, I know. I've never eaten MREs, but after seeing 5/6ths of your battalion mowed down or too injured to fight they'd be pretty tasty to a grunt like Enobaria.**


	19. Sacrifices Dishonored

**ME: First chapter taking place from Gale's perspective in a while, readers.**

Gale was shocked at all he had experienced from Enobaria's perspective. He had seen her become friends with a Mayor's daughter who was more or less an older and more militaristic version of Madge with a tan (undoubtedly from growing up in District Four, he realized, even though she didn't work on fishing boats), he was upset to see her be happy at the Third Quarter Quell, he saw her execute Cray and he saw her undergo a baptism by fire as well as so much more. It was as though he had experienced her memories himself, even though he never had committed any of those acts and never had control.

"We'll come back to this later," Enobaria told him.

Now they were in the Capitol; they stood before a monument/memorial for Squad 451.

"The Leeg twins-KIA. Defense Minister Boggs-KIA. Soldier Mitchell-KIA. Soldier Homes-KIA. Soldier and Squad Leader-even though Boggs was in command, she had the rank even though Thirteen claimed they weren't 'classist'-Jackson-KIA. Soldier Finnick Odair-KIA. Cameraman Castor-KIA. Assistant Messalla-KIA. Director Cressida-survived with no injuries. Cameraman Pollux-survived with no injuries. Soldier Peeta Mellark-WIA. Soldier Katniss Everdeen-WIA. Soldier Gale Hawthorne-WIA."

She glanced at him. "Each and every one of those KIAs died meaninglessly, Butcher."

Gale was shocked at her callousness. "How could you say that, Enobaria? They died fighting against the Capitol, they died liberating Panem!"

Through her helmet the Lieutenant emitted a world-weary sigh. "You foolish rebels proved to be horribly incompetent on a strategic level the moment you decided to invade the Capitol. You couldn't be satisfied with needlessly destroying the Nut, you had to invade a city filled with defenseless civilians."

"War is hell," he shot back. "We had to take down the Capitol before Snow could strike back!"

Enobaria slapped him, and his cheek stung. "Don't tell me war's unpleasant, I was a Girl in White. I know what it's like to collect dog tags from my fallen subordinates, to fear a bullet penetrating my helmet or chest or an artillery shell or bomb blowing me up. And that's all the more reason not to expose others to the horrors of war."

She took off her helmet and looked Gale in the eye. "The Capitol had no industry whatsoever necessary to run a country. You could have easily maintained a siege and wait for them to run out of food and surrender. Same for the Nut, or at least offer us a chance to surrender first. Snow had three options when you took Two: Surrender and hope they didn't subject him to a flamethrower execution like Cray. Flee to a bunker and live out the rest of his life. Or put a bullet through his brain."

"He could've nuked us-."

She interrupted him: "And get nuked himself? You naive, moronic hillbilly! If he wanted to commit suicide, he'd have just blown his brains out rather then risk a slow and painful death by radiation."

Enobaria leaned into Gale's face. "You already saw Prim die with all the other children, time to see your squadmates go out."

Leeg 2 was the first casualty. A taller then average blonde at 5'10 with blue eyes, she hit a mislabeled pod and was fatally wounded by a dart for her troubles. Her last thought as she died was remembering playing with her twin sister.

Mitchell, an older soldier, was the next fatality for Squad 451. Peeta, in a hijacking-induced state of rage, nearly attacked Katniss only to be tackled by him. The brainwashed blonde-haired youth threw Mitchell off him, where he fell into a barbed wire net trap before dying of tar.

Boggs died next. His legs were blown off by a pod, and he bled out after transferring his Holo to Katniss. His only regret was that he wouldn't see his son grow up.

Messalla's demise was caused by an agonizingly painful golden light weapon that melted his flesh off like candle wax; he was the first of the propo crew to die.

Soldiers Leeg 1 and Jackson were the fifth and six fatalities of the Star Squad. Jackson was killed reloading, while Leeg 1 was actually relieved to be reunited with her sister in death.

Homes, Finnick and Castor were the final deaths. Castor ran out of bullets and was able to kill one of the mutts with his bayonet before being overwhelmed. Finnick went down using his trident, while Homes was able to pull a grenade pin before dying; it proved to be a dud, but Katniss used Boggs's Holo to render that irrelevant.

"Nine people died, Hawthorne," Enobaria said. "Six from Thirteen, two from the Capitol and one from Four. All had hopes and dreams, loved ones. Did you honor their unnecessary sacrifice and live a good life?"

**ME: I got the idea of the Interludes being from Enobaria's perspective but shown to Gale (quite literally being placed in her shoes) from T.J.98, one of the better fanfic authors I've had the pleasure of working with. So y'all have him to thank.**


	20. Interlude: Sadism And Kindness

**ME: Back to Enobaria's adventures. Warning: Not meant for the faint-hearted. A/N: Interlude.**

Enobaria raced hot on Manius's heels as he led the Loyalists into Central City.

Depressingly, the whole town seemed deserted. Undoubtedly all of Sub-District Zero's (the official name, even though no one besides bureaucrats used it) residents were either dead, on the frontline as Peacekeepers or Militia volunteers or had long since evacuated to Fort Cheyenne.

A lone female Peacekeeper in a standard uniform stood guard at their destination; an abandoned bakery which had been commandeered and turned into a makeshift cell.

"Open the door!" Cadet Nero yelled, his voice firm and unwavering; the boy sounded like a true warrior now thanks to the fiery crucible of war.

The Peacekeeper held up a hand. "You're just a Cadet, and I have orders-."

"GET OFF OF ME, YOU ASSHOLES!" A female voice shrieked.

Before anyone else could react, Nero suddenly kneed the guard in the groin. "My name's Nero Augustus, and I said OPEN THE DOOR, MOTHERFUCKER!"

Claudia noticeably smiled before opening the door. Her smile faded.

Enobaria saw why. They were clearly too late for the male pilot, who was bleeding out from fatal wounds. The female wasn't much better off (though she'd live), for her flight suit had been torn off and all five of the SSS monsters in view were pulling up their pants.

"What do you want?" Their helmets hadn't been off before, but the Lieutenant recognized the voice and it's signature hubris.

"YOU FUCKING RAPING AND MURDERING BASTARDS!" She yelled.

Homma sighed. "Don't tell me you're one of those Capitolte bleeding hearts-."

Enobaria cut him off with a punch that hurt her hand and all but surely broke his nose.

Lawrence was comforting the dying prisoner, ironically enough given his threatening of both pilots earlier. Julia took off her jacket and gave it to the half-naked girl, who accepted it gratefully and actually cracked a smile at the director.

"What's going on here?" Came the question.

Remus Thread entered the shop, flanked by his two aides.

"Sir," Captain Homma answered, "my men and I were riled up by the bombing. We decided to blow off some steam, you know how it is."

"Blow off some steam?" The Head Peacekeeper hissed.

"I don't even know why I'm here," the guard stated as she was hauled in by Nero. "It's not as if rebels, particularly Thirteeners, are human; the SSS were just dispensing justice for Sal-."

Laura tackled her. "DON'T EVEN THINK OF USING HER NAME, BITCH!"

"Enough!" Thread stated. "Lieutenant Domitius, take these SSS and the guard back to the front; they are to each receive twenty lashings."

"What the hell, sir?" The Head Peacekeeper's senior aide, a Captain, took the words out of Enobaria's mouth. "I served a tour in District Eleven, this is less than half the penalty there for poaching and they just tried to rape a girl on top of murdering a prisoner! Both of those are capital offenses under the Uniform Code of Military Justice!"

Thread didn't comment as the six offenders were taken into custody. "Please, have mercy!" The guard pleaded. "I didn't even do anything!"

"That's right," the Major General replied. "You could've easily tried to stop these criminals, or if you had reasonable fear for your own life gotten help."

The SSS murderers were all flogged bare, while the guard trembled in her tank top as she awaited her taste of the lash.

The Head Peacekeeper walked behind her. "I'll dispense her punishment personally."

Enobaria expected him to get a whip.

What she did not expect Thread to do was draw his sword and decaptiate the guard in one swing.

The SSS's arrogant expressions changed from smug to horrified, and they begged for mercy. Remus, however, wasn't going to let them off with floggings.

The first one simply had his throat sliced by the Head Peacekeeper's knife. The second had his throat properly slit as taught in training, while the third was stabbed in the heart. The fourth and final member of the fireteam was stabbed in the neck quite unceremoniously.

Homma was now crying like a baby and begging for his life, but that did not prevent him from being stabbed in the neck repeatedly until he stopped breathing.

"Let this be a message to all of you!" The Major General announced. "This is not the Mockingjay's army, we are Loyalists! Rape and murder of prisoners shall not be tolerated under any circumstances!"

Lawrence stood next to her, and the Lieutenant noticed the Victor was somewhat drained. What those newly-deceased monsters had done to the pilots was sadism beyond imagination.

"Hey!" A voice yelled.

The two turned to find the female prisoner who nearly became a rape victim. Instead of Julia's jacket, she now wore a blue parka and warm black pants that matched her snow boots.

The girl approached Lawrence. "Thank you for what you did back there, comforting Caeso and everything. Here, take these."

"His dog tags?" Lawrence sounded a hundred years old-the poor guy was twenty-one at most, yet the toll of his experiences had worn him down.

"Just please get them to his father," she said.

"I will, Miss-?"

"Aquilina," she said simply. "I miss him more and more already. Growing up he didn't want to kill anybody, but he was great at physics so he was able to avoid combat by becoming a transport pilot. We were talking about getting married before the Quarter Quell-."

Aquilina stopped talking and started crying instead, holding her face in her hands. Lawrence tried his hand at comforting her, while Enobaria asked an essential question.

"Head Peacekeeper Thread, sir, what about the prisoner?"

He stared at her as though she had told him he had grown a second head. "What prisoner, Lieutenant? All I see is a young female refugee you rescued from would-be rapists."

"You can't just release her!" Snapped the SSS Lieutenant, now the CO of the armband-wearers. "She's an officer of the rebel army, we must interrogate-."

"-a transport pilot?" Thread sneered. "Who your now deceased comrades tried to rape? I know you got your commission from sucking your way to the top, Lieutenant, don't make me take that from you and force you to do it all over again."

The SSS woman was already flustered at having to file out paperwork for Homma, but she didn't press her luck.

**ME: Well this was brutal.**


	21. Interlude: Lock And Load

**ME: Battle time, or preparation for battle time, readers! A/N: Interlude.**

***Fort Cheyenne CIC***

"Sir, an enemy infantry force from the east is Oscar Mike to the evacuation defenses now."

Augustus stared at the operator. "Did they get past our defenses?"

"Affirmative, sir. Our forces are holding, but the rebels were able to slip this group past our defenses. All available units already at the front are tied up dealing with both local rebels and soldiers from Thirteen as well as the rest of Panem."

"Son, what are we dealing with?"

The younger Peacekeeper swallowed. "Sir, reports indicate that the hostile unit is of battalion-strength. That means they have at least eight-hundred troops, though they could have a thousand or even one-thousand-two-hundred soldiers total. Looks like a mix of APCs and technicals plus stolen MRAPs in addition to gun trucks. They also appear to have a company-sized tank unit for support."

The Head Peacekeeper of the Armies gasped. Even at the most conservative estimates the Loyalist defenders would be outnumbered by at least a four-to-one margin (the Peacekeeping battalion defending the evacuation had been reduced to two hundred, and while the Militias would've reinforced them both were undoubtedly even further depleted); the most liberal estimates would have them outnumbered six-to-one.

_Fuck._ "Alright," Augustus asked, "are there any available reinforcements for us to dispatch?"

One of his three aides, a Lieutenant Colonel, typed at his tablet. "We could scramble a flight of hovercraft to attack the tanks, thinning them out will be key to evening the odds. On top of that, sir, we just finished repairing a platoon's worth of our own tanks."

"Release them immediately on my authority," he ordered. "And get me a line to Thread five minutes ago."

His youngest aide, a newly minted Major, smiled. "Once those tanks are gone, sir, we'll have Johnny Reb on the run."

"You young fool," retorted his eldest, a full-bird Colonel. "Commander Lyme and her officers may be traitors, but they're not fools. She's a fucking Victor for Mars's sake, not to mention our forces are at best outnumbered by a four-to-one margin.

***Back to the front***

"Thread, this is Augustus. Radio check, over."

Everyone who heard that stood a little straighter. "Go ahead, sir."

Terrible news soon followed. "A battalion-sized enemy mechanized infantry force is inbound from the east, strength could be anywhere from eight-hundred at the least to twelve-hundred-that's one-two-double-zero-at the most. Additionally, attached to them is a company-sized tank unit."

"Holy shit," District Two's Head Peacekeeper replied.

"Grab the propo crew and return to base immediately, your position is not safe. I say again, get your ass in gear and take the VIPs with you."

"Roger that. Thread out," he answered.

He turned to Irons. "Kid, get your crew together, we're leaving."

"No!" Said the actor. "I'm not running away from a fight when I should be helping out, I'm combat-trained!"

"Kid-."

"Sorry to interrupt," Julia said, "but just got word from Egeria: The President himself ordered that our footage of the SSS to not be aired-in fact, they deleted it."

"WHAT?!" Both men yelled in surprise at the news.

"They're worried about it being used in rebel anti-Loyalist propos or it inciting their troops to go down fighting rather than surrender."

Enobaria could tell the young Capitolite wasn't happy about the decision made by the powers that be despite her neutral and objective tone.

"If you and your crew wanna stay here, son," Thread told Irons, "what if you end up dead from a Thirteen bullet?"

Centurion Panem smiled. "Then Manius and Marcus better get it on camera."

The Head Peacekeeper simply left with his aides in tow along with the surviving Rebel prisoner-turned-refugee. As their transport left, four attack hovercraft soared overhead towards the east.

"Platoon leaders, return to your subordinates," Flavius ordered as his earpiece beeped.

"Oscar Four Foxtrot, this is Spartan One Actual. Come in, over."

"Spartan One," he replied while walking, "Flavius here. Go ahead, over."

"Be advised: We are Oscar Mike to your position from Fort Cheyenne, ETA eleven or so Mikes. Acknowledge."

"Understood, Spartan."

Irons and his crew joined her behind the barricades along with Lawrence and the two Cadets, the latter of whom wearing modern vests and helmets undoubtedly formerly owned by either the five SSS or the guard.

"Man," Nero said, "this vest is so much more comfy and practical then the old model. Not to mention protective."

Claudia snorted. "What do you expect? I helped design the new uniform."

***Flashback***

Claudia let out a sigh of relief. She was finally finished.

Her older cousin (who had babysat her when she was younger) had been injured serving in District Eleven, for the rubes had rioted after Rue's death (why didn't any of the eighteen-year old female rabble volunteer if they were so angry about her death?); both of his legs had to be amputated because a mob had beat him to the point of where he barely survived, and thus would receive an honorable discharge before returning to Two post-recovery.

Evidently the helmets were part of the reason why the masses of Eleven revolted; the transparent half-visor clearly was inadequate for intimidating them into submission. So she applied what she knew of psychology to her artwork.

Going downstairs, she opened the door for her mother with one hand and held her sketchbook in another.

"Mom," she asked, "remember what happened in Eleven?"

"There was a riot, yes," she answered. "Your cousin was injured, you know. You'll have to be supportive of him since they had to amputate his legs."

"I know," Claudia answered, "and I wanna make sure things like that riot don't happen again." She opened the sketchbook to a certain page and showed her most important drawing-a Peacekeeper helmet with an opaque visor. "Can we make something like this, Mom? For him?"

***Back to the present***

"You designed the new uniform?" Lawrence asked the redheaded girl, clearly surprised beyond belief.

"Yes and no," the Cadet replied. "For starters, DARPA actually designed the uniform itself with the aesthetics modeled off my drawings. But I did suggest the following elements-an opaque visor, the helmet having an integrated gas mask for CBRN protection, the vest being more protective on top of being made more comfortable to wear and the kneepads."

"How was your mother able to get your proposal to DARPA?" Enobaria asked; she was impressed that the design made it out of Two.

"She's a weapons factory manager," Claudia answered. "She used her connections to get it done-you're welcome, Lieutenant."

***Peacekeeper attack hovercraft Eagle One-One***

"You good back there?" The pilot asked his PWO in the rear.

"Yeah," she replied. "Guns and bombs are ready."

"Eagle One-One, this is Command," came the order over the radio.

He replied with a, "Go ahead, Command, over."

"Eagle One-One, you are cleared to initiate your attack. Command out."

At this, the pilot switched frequencies. "Alright, Eagle One, Command wants those tanks taken care of so the ground-pounders don't have more on their overfilled plate. Semper Fi?"

"Semper Fi!"

"Firing now!" His PWO shouted as she squeezed the trigger.

The pilot was only able to count to three before a Thirteen tank exploded.

***Back to Enobaria***

"All units, this is Blue One. Be advised: Hostiles are about two klicks out, over."

Lawrence glanced over at the two Cadets, smiling at Nero. "So, you two already fuck yet?"

The two were clearly embarassed by the Victor's question. Nero covered his ears even though he was wearing the latest helmet. "INAPPROPRIATE PUBLIC ENVIORNMENT, INAPPROPRIATE PUBLIC ENIVORNMENT!"

Claudia, on the other hand, maintained her composure. "What, no!" Enobaria smiled as she wondered if her probable blushing matched her hair. "I'm not a tesserae queen from Twelve, I'm not getting knocked up at seventeen AND out of wedlock!"

"Good for you," said the Lieutenant. "Though I think female Twelvers wait until their last Reaping to marry."

***Remus Thread's hovercraft***

"So," he asked the District Thirteen pilot, "do you have any family back in Thirteen, Aquilina?"

Evidently not, for she shook her head and gained a sad expression. "No, I do not. I grew up in what you continentals call an orphanage or a community home. From what I was told, my mother died in childbirth and my father, who was a soldier, committed suicide afterwards."

The Head Peacekeeper decided to bring up his own experiences. "I never knew my father either, while my mother was a lowly criminal who cared more for her morphling addiction then myself and my two siblings."

"But how did you get your job, then?" She asked, shocked. "I was taught as a child ranks were not awarded on the basis of merit in the Peacekeepers..."

He laughed. "Well, that my dear is baseless propaganda. If you're a Boy or Girl in White and work hard enough, you can and probably will become a Head Peacekeeper."

She nodded, seemingly satisfied at his answer judging by her smile and eyes as well as body language. "Do you have a wife and kids?" She asked next.

He shook his head. "No, I don't. In fact, Aquilina, in addition to a minimum of twenty years of active-duty service Peacekeepers cannot marry or have children. However, we are allowed to have fiancées and have romantic relationships-it's just that we can't get marriage licenses."

She seemed more curious. "What if a male Peacekeeper impregnates his fiancé?"

"It's probably happened more than once," he admitted. "Particularly considering the sexual appetites of youngsters, most wouldn't wait the minimal twenty years. More so if the woman wants to have children and won't risk losing her fertility around her middle-aged years."

He then took a deep breath. "However, there are additional restrictions. Contrary to what you may have been taught in that over-sized bunker, Peacekeepers are prohibited from paying civilians for sex even if they are of legal age and consent. Also, we may not have any sexual relations with civilians whatsoever outside of the Capitol and Districts One, Two and Four. Finally, sexual relations between Peacekeepers on duty is prohibited; in addition to maintaining discipline, these measures minimize the spread of sexually transmitted diseases and out-of-wedlock pregnancies, both of which cause only trouble for the Nation of Panem."

He paused before questioning her about her home. "What's District Thirteen like, Aquilina?"

"Hell," she spat bitterly. "My guardian was an abusive matron appointed by the State. A slap would be her weakest way to hurt you; she had the older girls pick on me and others. The food there is tasteless garbage designed to keep us functional enough to serve the elite, who have luxuries such as meat and fresh vegetables. They find it necessary to have a schedule tattooed on you everyday instead of printing a simple sheet of paper. You are considered to be mere breeding stock."

"Breeding stock?" He asked, confused.

She smiled ruefully at him. "I envy your current ignorance. In Thirteen, heterosexuality is mandated for 'population sustainability.' That was never a problem for me, but don't think I was-or am-okay with it. A couple of my friends kissed each other, only for the matron to walk in on them."

She paused, and Remus found himself horrified to the point he took off his helmet to avoid vomiting in it. "Her response to them being lesbians? She had them turned into lab rats, for both disappeared and were never seen again."

"The one good thing about Thirteen? I met my Caeso."

Remus nodded, grateful that he hadn't thrown up in a hovercraft. "I'm sorry for your loss and your birthplace, Aquilina. Know that those SSS monsters who tormented you do not represent the Peacekeepers as a whole."

"I know," she replied. "Your troops are the only reason I'm still a virgin."

"How old are you?" He asked. "Not to be rude, and I'm sixty years old. You don't have to answer if you feel uncomfortable."

"Seventeen," she said; the Head Peacekeeper noted her voice didn't have a District Thirteen accent or any accent for that matter. _Good, she can definitely pass as a refugee,_ he thought. Though her stated age concerned him.

"Seventeen?" He asked. "Weren't you talking about getting married to Caeso?"

Aquilina paused before offering an answer. "In District Thirteen, you become eligible for conscription into the military or assignment to the defense industry at age fourteen. The age of consent for marriage-and thus sex as well, since it's legally prohibited outside of marriage for health reasons-is sixteen. I was taught the minimal age of sixteen was for the sake of population sustainability."

Remus shook his head. "So my troops have definitely killed some child soldiers in gray uniforms, that's just great." He then decided to inform her of the differing laws in the Nation of Panem. "You can marry at eighteen without parental consent in both the Districts and the Capitol, though you can marry at sixteen with the permission of a parent, guardian or government official. I think it's to cut down on single mothers having to raise kids at a young age, though thanks to our superb schools and discipline amongst youngsters unwed mothers are rare in District Two. Unless you count fiancées of Peacekeepers, of course. Similarly, you can join the Peacekeeping Force at sixteen with the consent of a parent or legal guardian."

She nodded. "Interesting to see how you continental folk are different. However, there's something I want to get off my chest."

"Go ahead."

"When you executed those monsters who murdered Caeso, you told your troops, 'This is not the Mockingjay's army, we are Loyalists!' The majority of the rebels aren't rapists or murderers, we all simply want to end the Hunger Games forever. Not that most Peacekeepers are child-killers, however."

"That doesn't change Thirteen's war crimes," Remus replied. "Your government bombed District Twelve with disguised hovercraft bombers to incite terrorist insurgencies in the Districts, and I've heard reports of massacres and gang-rapes of Loyalist and even neutral civilians."

"I don't think any bombers were launched that day," Aquilina said. "And even if Peacekeepers bombed Twelve, I'm pretty sure they must've been those SSS assholes.

"Also, a case of raping and murdering did occur at a village here. The local quarriers who make up the majority of the Sub-District's population are largely neutral at worst, so they were left alone. The local Peacekeeping Department wanted to fight, but they were outnumbered and outgunned so the Major in command surrendered rather than risk the lives of his subordinates.

"However, an officer from Thirteen and his unit decided to be monsters like Homma and his men. They murdered all the male prisoners before raping the female ones. Fortunately-or unfortunately since they were too late to prevent the massacre and the rape that followed after-Defense Minister Boggs and Commander Lyme stopped the bastards before they could execute the rape victims."

"What did they do to those subhuman fuckers?" Remus asked.

"They got a flamethrower from the Department's arsenal and had the monsters roasted alive. Apparently they didn't want to waste bullets and decapitating or hanging them would have taken too long; not gonna pity those sons of bitches."

"Nice," said the Head Peacekeeper, smiling at the mental image. "Quick tip: You're a refugee who couldn't get on either a bus or monorail and had to walk to safety. Not a prisoner, because I doubt my colleagues will enjoy sharing a roof with a Thirteener. Fortunately, you don't seem to possess any Panemanian accent whatsoever, so while your lack of a Career District accent will be cause for suspicion it won't be as bad as you having a Thirteen accent."

"I got it," she replied.

***Back to the front***

The rebel battalion in front of Enobaria was impressive. Hundreds or a thousand, maybe even more, soldiers armed with military-grade weaponry were now in full view of her and the remaining members of the 1st Battalion, 1st Regiment of District Two's Garrison plus the Militia and Cadets that had reinforced them. They were definitely hardened veterans like the Loyalist troops defending the evacuation efforts-they all wore gray uniforms and helmets, even the ones who weren't from Thirteen. Not to mention that when they marched into position they had a confidence in their step only seasoned warriors possessed; though Enobaria refused to fight under the Mockingjay's banner, she definitely respected their prowess.

In addition to the infantry, the enemy unit possessed a motor pool of vehicles. Some were clearly improvised implements of war, either civilian vehicles (typically pickup trucks) with mounted machine guns or non-combat military cargo transports armed and equipped with add-on armor for extra protection. However, they were genuine military vehicles meant for battle as well. MRAPs either of Thirteen manufacture or captured Peacekeeper ones (the latter with the Panem Eagle painted over with the Mockingjay or Thirteen's hammer and sickle), APCs armed with 30mm cannons (said weapons essentially upscaled .50 cal machine guns modified to fire 30mm shells) and approximately seven tanks, the latter two always having Thirteen gray paint.

A tank commander, probably the battalion political officer, stood in his open hatch with a megaphone. "Surrender, and perhaps our great and magnanimous leader, Alma Coin, through her well-deserved position as President may show mercy on you!" Unlike previous commissars, he had an intimidating and menacing voice.

"Red One?" She heard Flavius ask.

"Yes, sir?" Was the crisp reply.

"Please shut this nitwit up right now."

"With pleasure, sir. Die, ya commie bastard! Firing now!"

_BOOM!_

**ME: Cliffhanger, I know. A/N: "Semper Fi" translates into "Always Faithful (USMC version)/Always Loyal," the latter making it very appropriate for the Peacekeepers. The marriage/age of consent laws and whatnot are based off the laws of my state of Texas, where you have to have parental/guardian/governmental consent if you're 16-17. The "tesserae queen" remark is more or less a future version of "welfare queen", an insult in American English implying said queen is a social parasite.**


	22. Interlude: Bloodshed

**ME: A/N: Interlude. Also, this will contain a brief description of the war from a strategic point of view. **

***Presidential Mansion, War Room***

Minister of Homeland Security Antonius Snow was the eldest nephew of the President of Panem, but even he was now fearing for his life.

The facts were obvious to anyone with half a brain and viewing the three-dimensional electronic map.

Red represented the rebels (ironic given the National Banner, but it was the traditional color of communists from pre-Panem times), blue Loyalists.

Districts Three, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen were all crimson. One, Four and Five were purple due to ongoing insurgencies started by Loyalist partisans; fortunately, luxury items and seafood were non-essential (though invaluable in the eyes of the socialites that infested the Capitol) on a strategic level, while not all of the electricity of Panem was generated in Five. However, he himself knew the rebels would have a much easier time causing a blackout by narrowing down the power plants to destroy. Two and the Capitol, of course, remained blue (though for how long, he didn't know-this he wisely did not share with Uncle Coriolanus).

Antonius typed at his tablet, and suddenly the War Room was now overlooking District Two alone.

He gave a report on the choices of the local population. "It seems that quarry workers and other stonemasonry occupations comprise the bulk of the local revolt under the traitorous Victor Commander Lyme. This I suspect is due to them being the lowest and most poorly-paid socioeconomic class in Two's society and culture, although I am pleased to note that a number of the miners have joined the local Loyalist Militia. Weapons factory workers and mangers, on the other hand, are the opposite politically. These citizen-soldiers are the heart and soul of the Militia; besides genuine loyalty, there are the objective facts that they are better paid than those in the masonry industry and they fear being murdered as so-called class traitors by the District Thirteen military in a purge. From what we have gathered regarding the merchant class, approximately one-third have rebelled, another third has joined the Militia and the remainder apparently have either decided to wait out the storm via taking shelter in their homes or evacuating to Fort Cheyenne. In the case of merchants taking up arms, which side they choose depends on geography; rebellious quarrying villages typically see their shopkeepers pick up rifles and fight against us, while loyal weapons factory towns see shopowners remain obedient if not dedicated."

The President's pale blue eyes stared into Antonius's dark brown ones. "Any thoughts to defeat this insurrection, my boy?" Uncle Coriolanus may have been a relative, but the Homeland Security Minister didn't fool himself into letting his guard down; "Uncle Cory" was out of the question, and he did not have the privilege of the chess master of Panem.

"Mr. President, sir, I actually have a few proposals. Which would you like to hear?" He said, keeping his voice level.

"All of them, but start with your most preferable option."

That was unexpected, but he didn't survive to live past his fiftieth birthday by being an unprepared idiot. No, politics made him far from it.

"The first proposal is designated as Alpha. Authorize the release of some ground troops backed by hovercraft from the Capitol Garrison and/or our reserves and send them to District Two. With those reinforcements, Head Peacekeeper of the Armies Augustus can launch a counterattack and repeal the rebels occupying Two. This will buy us valuable time we need-."

"This is your best proposal?" Snow shook his head. "I cannot weaken the Capitol's defense by diverting troops to a foolhardy endeavor."

"Sir," Antonius replied with all necessary tact, ignoring that he had been interrupted, "if Lyme's troops take Two, the Capitol will have no defense."

The President's eyes widened briefly but discretely. "Why?"

"Industrially, we're an eye-sore, Mr. President." He had to be honest but simultaneously careful. "We have no weapons factories, no tank or hovercraft assembly plants, no farms of any kind save what citizens use to grow gardens or for their own consumption. And how many of said citizens can truly be counted as self-sufficient, especially once their unprepared neighbors take what they want by force?

"All the rebels have to do is secure the Districts then wait for us to starve to death. What Peacekeepers remain will be unable to control those rioting for bread-in fact, they will revolt and overthrow the government. They will trade you for tesserae rations."

"Plan Bravo?" It had a dual meaning: _Shut up, now, before you pay the price for humiliating me._

"We launch thermobaric missiles at District Two areas held by the rebels. To minimize civilian casualties and damage to essential infrastructure as well as industry, ensure that they hit large-scale hostile formations but in a way that does not cause unnecessary collateral damage if possible."

He paused, then went on when Snow signaled him to. "Plan Charlie: Target any and all rebel leaders for assassination, from the Mockingjay and her mentor to Alma Coin."

"That's a given. Anything else, Nephew?"

Antonius had a sip of water-mineral, probably. "Just one, sir; Delta. I sincerely hope we do not use this one."

"Why?"

"Because," he said, "I suggest in Delta that we use nuclear bunker-busters on Thirteen instead of mere conventional munitions."

The Minister of Homeland Security saw his President and uncle pale.

"Nuclear missiles, Nephew?"

"Affirmative, sir. Our nuclear weapons, of course, are pure fusion due to the trigger being induced gamma emission via hafnium instead of fissile material and thus they do not produce fallout but there is the strong risk that Thirteen would unleash it's thermonuclear arsenal-I believe they still use such outdated technology judging by intelligence gained from our sources and their lack of innovation-in retaliation. It would not merely be the end of the Capitol and it's allies or the Rebellion; it would be the end of our very species itself. Humanity would no longer exist even in an impoverished state."

"Then Plan Charlie is to be used," the President ordered. "Cut off the head, Nephew, and the heart may continue to pump blood but it will be useless. Coordinate with the Head Peacekeeper Staff in Cheyenne while I order my assassins to target the enemy's leadership. You have your orders, Nephew."

At this point, Antonius was grateful that the SSS's (and Panem's by default) intelligence organization, the National Security Bureau (NSB), hadn't received orders to put a round through his head or an even worse fate.

***Back to the front***

_BOOM!_

The .50 caliber HEIAP bullet sailed through the air before hitting the tank commander right between the eyes.

Even if it had been a chest shot, the Thirteener would not survive. HEIAP rounds, while the size of a standard 12.7x99mm, had the effective firepower of a 20mm autocannon shell.

"TO TRAITORS NEVER YIELD! TO TRAITORS NEVER YIELD!" The Loyalists chanted.

The battle began. Enobaria saw their four tanks fire all at once, destroying a quad of inferior rebel ones. However, one of the Thirteener gunners fired at the same time. This disabled one (instead of outright destroying it, probably either due to inferior firepower and/or superior Loyalist armor) tank, rendering it's turret unable to traverse and condemning the three crew members inside to death, for another rebel tank fired and destroyed it. Fortunately, another Peacekeeper fired an anti-tank missile and destroyed the fifth tank, avenging the deceased trio of Peacekeeper tankers.

"MASONS!"

_Shit. _"Masons," nicknamed after the District Seven Victor, were particularly fanatical rebels from Seven. Typically recruited lumberjacks, of course, they were infamous even amongst the Rebellion for their zealous nature and were prone to using axes even when equipped with firearms. Intelligence indicated they were fond of "berserker" attacks.

But the rebels, unfortunately, did not have a monopoly on insane soldiers. Why?

An SSS Peacekeeper with the two black stripes of a Corporal, instead of cowering in the trenches like a number of his comrades (undoubtedly because they would be shot for desertion), drew his sword and charged the five Masons in view. "BANZAI! BANZAI!"

"Yamasaki, get your ass back here!" Yelled another SSS member, most likely his Sergeant.

Enobaria decided to support the lunatic, for unlike his compatriots he was exhibiting bravery (ableit suicidally). She fired a burst; her rifle only had five shots left, but thankfully all but one hit, sending one of the five Masons to the ground.

The first of the remaining four berserkers threw an axe at him, but not only was he not wounded but the Corporal was able to grab the tomahawk by the handle. He dodged her second axe (this one too heavy to throw from a safe distance, forcing her to get up close) and spilt her guts with his sword.

As the female rebel fell down dying, her three comrades charged in. The Corporal, however, anticipated this and sliced one man's throat with a swing of his Gladius. His fourth kill came when he impaled another man, the blade undoubtedly penetrating the heart. The Corporal then sliced off the hand of his final opponent.

As she fell to her knees screaming in agony, he displayed a mercy Enobaria was genuinely surprised to see come from an SSS member; he loped her head off, ending her misery.

Corporal Swordsman went to the man whose throat was sliced and cut off his head; Enobaria could only watch feeling both fascinated and horrifed.

"LONG LIVE OUR GREAT AND MAGNANIMOUS LEADER, PRESIDENT CORIOLANUS SNOW!" He yelled, holding up the head. "ALL HAIL THE CAPITOL, DEATH TO THE MOCK-."

Before he could finish, a 30mm cannon opened fire and one of the stray rounds struck him. The thing must've been a HEIAP one (and thus the equivalent of a 50mm shell), for the remains were unrecognizable.

The Lieutenant took cover, knowing her assault rifle would be a mosquito to the rebel APC. Would she, the last of the Domituses, die this way? If she survived, her first daughter would be named Clove.

Suddenly there was an explosion, and she could hear screaming. Looking up, Enobaria saw not only had the APC been destroyed but nearby rebel infantry were either dead or dying agonizingly painful deaths on fire. Even though the circumstances were different, the quarrier's daughter was reminded of Clove's cruel murder by Thresh of Eleven.

_No, it's your fault! You couldn't convince her to become a Peacekeeper instead, she never got Reaped once!_

If only Clove and Cato had won the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games instead of the warmongering rabble-rousers from Twelve, Katniss and Peeta; both their parents would still be alive and in fact would never have to work another day in their lives. Enobaria would have celebrated her little sister's sixteenth birthday instead of placing a flower and a casing at her tombstone.

The Peacekeeper officer stopped reflecting on the past and looked to her left and found her savior. It was Cadet Nero Augustus; the young Boy in White Cadet possessed a Shoulder-Launched Multipurpose Assault Weapon (SMAW), and Enobaria did not need to be a genius to know who had launched the thermobaric rocket.

"Thank you, Cadet!" She yelled.

Nero merely nodded, while Claudia and Lawrence patted him on the back.

The battle may have just begun, but First Lieutenant Enobaria Domitius would help end it soon enough alongside her fellow Boys and Girls in White; this was what they were born for.

**ME: Hope y'all enjoyed this. SPOILER: Don't think the battle's over just yet. A/N: The "To traitors never yield!" battle cry was inspired by T.J.98's work; check it out, readers, it's good reading material.**


	23. Interlude: Capitolites Bloodbath

**Me: This time, you readers (and Gale) will experience combat not from Enobaria's perspective but from that of a Capitolite named Julia Flickerman.**

_"I may not be a Career or a Peacekeeper, but I am my father's daughter. I will prove myself worthy of his bloodline today and become a Warrior of Panem."_

That was Julia's internal mantra as she fought alongside the Boys and Girls in White. She now had an assault rifle taken from the SSS rapists, and she was glad that her short hair wasn't irritating with a helmet on (fortunately, she had been granted a vest for protection back in the Capitol, only undecorated unlike Stephanos's) unlike a bun.

Her magazine was capable of holding one-hundred rounds; she would make use of each and every one of them. Luckily the backing was transparent, so she could see how many bullet were left and thus not have to guess; being incorrect about ammunition was a death sentence on the battlefield.

"For the victims of the Dark Days!" Julia yelled, gunning down one rebel with a three-round burst. "Death to the war mongerers from District Thirteen!"

Every Capitol citizen not addicted to debauchery knew what had happened to their city during the previous Rebellion, Julia remembered as she fought for her the troops and her friends next to her.

The Capitol had been built upon a reservoir (once know as Kinbasket Lake, after the chief of a pre-North American Tribe of indigenous people) in the former province of British Columbia, part of the North American nation known as Canada. Similar to the offshore oil rigs employed by both of the great North American civilizations (which Panem, of course, had surpassed since they no longer relied on fossil fuels and thus avoided needlessly polluting the Earth via increasingly depleted energy sources), the city was built on a platform anchored directly to the bottom of the lakebed. Due to this and the surrounding Rocky Mountains, it was impossible to get into the Capitol unless via air, water or a Maglev tunnel.

This geographic advantage protected the citizens of the Capitol well; the one time boats were used by the rebels to invade from the north, the amphibious assault force was entirely wiped out and not one of the attackers escaped alive. Both an electromagnetic force field and conventional AAW systems largely annihilated whatever hovercraft tried to launch an air assault, and the tunnels were fortified by the Peacekeeper Garrison. The rebels fourth strategy, go over the mountains, resulted in the troops being obliterated by air support and artillery strikes.

Then came their fifth strategy.

After stationing their own AA units to protect their foothold near the Capitol, a Kamikaze commando unit destroyed the force field projector, enabling the most inhumane crimes of the war to be committed.

Rebel artillery units, chiefly composed of troops from Districts Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen, bombarded the Capitol with shells and rockets. Everything from white phosphorus to VX gas was used, killing countless civilians and Peacekeepers. In addition to the Games (which Julia found pragmatically unnecessary and morally uncomfortable), Thirteen was (supposedly) destroyed while Eleven and Twelve were knocked down to the bottom of the totem pole of Panem. She had remembered seeing those videos in National History class; Julia had never forgotten the Peacekeepers and civilians who had been victims of the attack. Be they a man, woman, child or infant, all had perished or been horrifically injured because of the rebellious monsters the Rebellion produced.

"FOR THOSE YOU GASSED!" The young Capitolite yelled, killing another rebel with a shot to the neck; she had to switch to semi-automatic to conserve ammunition. "FOR THOSE WHO DIED SO YOUR FAILED REBELLION COULD HAVE A MICROSCOPIC CHANCE AT DECAPITATING THE NATIONAL GOVERNMENT!"

Her rifle ran out of ammunition, but she had an underslung shotgun and fired one 12-gauge shell from it, hitting and knocking down one rebel. Mindful of her vulnerability, Julia then took cover to reload.

"OH GOD! OH GOD!" A Thirteen accent cried out. "PLEASE DELIVER ME!"

_A theist?_

The woman froze; she had known religion to be a capital offense, but never saw the point in regulating harmless internal beliefs. And the man was dying anyway; let the rebel-no, human being she had the misfortune of killing in self-defense; no true communist cared for their own soul or believed in anything but their failed ideology-speak.

"Though I am not worthy that y-you should enter u-under my r-roof," the voice continued, weaker, "say the w-word and m-my s-soul h-healed."

Julia reloaded and popped her head up just as a stolen Peacekeeper MRAP drove into view, since all the rebel tanks and a lot of their APCs had been destroyed by their Loyalist counterparts; the damn thing had a remotely-operated turret, so all she could do was take cover and pray to whatever higher power existed (she was surprised at doing the latter) that the rebel .50 cal bullet would just end her life painlessly.

Suddenly there was an explosion, and she looked up to see the MRAP. It was now a smoldering wreck-while great at surviving IEDs, small arms and land mines, the things were not great at protection from anything more dangerous than a .50 caliber FMJ or JHP round.

Turning to her right, Julia saw Stephanos clutching a rifle with a grenade launcher attached similar to her shotgun.

"Thanks!" She yelled quickly, covering him as he reloaded.

"You're welcome," the actor replied calmly, as if he didn't warrant praise. "Mother raised a gentleman. And I appreciate your help."

Most of rebels stayed back out of self-preservation; their rationality and supplying of covering fire enabled one suicide-bomber to make it through.

Julia was horrified as she aimed her rifle, knowing she'd have to get a headshot or risk doing the insane woman's job for.

The bomber smiled and help up her right hand before screaming in a Seven accent, "LONG LIVE THE MOCK-."

A sword sliced through the air; as the woman screamed, Julia reflected that the insane idiot should've just detonated her suicide vest.

Publius wielded the Gladius-with his right boot, he delivered a well-aimed roundhouse kick to the would-be bomber's chest. The moment the Sevener (she had heard that nickname before-Onesies, Twofers, Fivers, Sixers, Niners, Eleveners, Twelvers and Thirteeners were the other nicknames for citizens based on their home district) hit the ground, he stomped on her left wrist, undoubtedly to keep her from grabbing the detonator.

It worked; evidently the monster's wrist was fractured, for she screamed even louder.

"DEATH TO THE MOCKINGJAY'S ARMY!" Her assistant screamed, using his sword to slice through the rebel's throat. "DEATH TO THOSE WHO WOULD MURDER MY FRIENDS FOR THEIR BIRTHPLACE!"

"Fuck you!" Manius yelled, undoubtedly at the rebels. "Fuck you, ya dicks!"

"Where's your brother, Manius?" She asked him, making sure to keep her eyes on the battlefield because her head was exposed.

"Fighting with some Twofer Militia Volunteers, Julia!" He replied; she didn't mind him using her first name, and never would be a stickler for formalities with her crew again. "Two cousins, the female's fiancé and some hard-drinking quarry foreman! You okay?"

Julia did not verbally reply. Instead, she finished pulling the pin on the frag grenade she had and threw it, releasing the safety lever and thus igniting the pyrotechnic delay element; she gave her answer to the enemy.

**ME: Talk about a baptism by fire. A/N: Manius's line is only slightly altered from what a US Force Recon Marine said in combat. And yeah, I have the Capitol in Canada. The Rocky Mountains there provide a better barrier against invasion described in the books than in CONUS, and since the movie features a dam nearby I, like my friend ForFutureReference, put it in the Kinbasket Lake area. You have him to thank, check out his work; it's much better than Twilight (not that I've ever read those sparkling vampire novels). Similarily, I have District Thirteen in Quebec due to the uranium and graphite resources and the only other area in Panem that's entirely in Canada. So yeah, my fellow Americans, in the future we shall be oppressed by Canadians with gaudy fashion taste or deceived into helping them like the Western Allies were with Stalin****. For those of my readers who are Anglo-Canadians (or at least not French/Quebecer), yes, your annoying little brother on your east coast will have her people turn into a gray-wearing culture of cave-dwelling communists.**


End file.
